


Gestation

by Dianazon (Rahlian)



Series: Continuity of Operations [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Carter Lives, Domestic Fluff, Everybody Lives, F/F, F/M, Morning Sickness, Pregnancy, Root being Root, Shaw Just Might be A Supervillain When Root's in Trouble, Shaw being the responsible one, Shaw-Groves Family, Shoot has kids, Straightjackets, Team as Family, doctor's visits, more tags as I think of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 56,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahlian/pseuds/Dianazon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root's the one who wanted a baby, yet Shaw's the one that's pregnant. Somehow, she couldn't see it happening any other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Month the First - Announcement

**Author's Note:**

> So I was considering waiting until I had a couple chapters done, but who knows how long that would take at the glacial pace I write, so heres the first part. Feel free to prompt, suggest or otherwise give input.

"So what’s this big announcement you dragged us all down here for?" Fusco groused, annoyed at the peremptory summons of the brunette hacker.

He knew it was something big because if he didn't know Shaw better, he would’ve said she looked uncomfortable or nervous. The whole team, Carter, Finch, Reese and Root were gathered in the computer room of the Library, in various states of relaxation. Shaw and Root were standing together as they were the ones who had called the gathering.

“So.. yeah. Um. The reason we wanted to talk to all of you-

"We're having a baby!" Root interrupted, draping an arm across Shaw's shoulders.

“Correction, I’m having a baby,” Shaw growled, arms tight across her chest. "Root is simply here for midnight craving runs and massages."

Several long seconds of silence passed before it was broken by Lionel’s raspy chuckle.

"Something you want to say, Fusco? " Shaw asked quietly when he fell silent.

"Wait, you are serious?” He asked when he noticed the decidedly intense expression Shaw wore.

"You think we can't do this?” Shaw demanded.

“Ah, no, no. Just you and Cocoa Puffs with a kid-”

“What I think Fusco is trying to say,” Carter interrupted, “is that you two… you’re… well, not exactly the most-”

“Congratulations!” Harold broke in when Shaw’s expression only darkened with Carter’s words. "When's the baby shower?"

“Know what, you can all go fuck yourselves. We’re gonna be the most bitchingest moms a kid ever had. Our kid is gonna be so badass that the Guinness Book of World Records is gonna want to get in on the action."

"Doubtlessly," Reese agreed in a placating tone. “I’m sure she will be setting all kinds of records.”

“Criminal records to be sure,” Fusco muttered.

“She better,” Shaw said which got her a dirty look from Finch and an eyeroll from Root.

“So do you need help setting up-”

“Please do not finish that thought Finch. We managed to get this far without… well not without assistance but without yours. You are a great guy but no offense, I do not want you anywhere around my biological processes.”

“I think we have everything handled in the baby-growing department, but thanks for the offer,” Root agreed.

“So, that was pretty much everything that we had,” Shaw told them after a moment of silence.

“We should probably have a discussion about working in your condition, though.”

“Sure, we can talk but if you think you are putting me on maternity leave or something, you have another thing coming. I had enough of that shit with Samaritan, I am not doing that again.”

“Ms. Shaw, not to tell you-”

“Then don’t,” Shaw snapped.

“Sweetie, Finch does have a point. Nobody is saying that you should stay out of the field, just… be careful.” Root lowered her voice, stepping close and placing a hand over Shaw’s stomach. “You aren’t just looking out for yourself anymore.”

The Library fell silent, everyone wondering how Shaw would react to once again being the one who was protected. “Fine. I’m not reckless. I know that some things are going to have to change. But I am not going to be benched from working on the numbers. Keep me on surveillance or grifting or whatever but I’m not gonna be sidelined."

"I promise to keep you as involved as is safely possible, Ms. Shaw."

Shaw frowned and sighed. "I don’t suppose I should expect better.” A thought then occurred to her and her gaze sharpened. "If I am going to be spending more time here we are going to need some more stuff. A fridge, a stove, a television. A toilet that you don’t need to double flush every time.”

“I will see what I can do,” Finch said after a moment.

“Wasn’t a request, Finch. This is stuff I need. Back me up Carter.”

“Think about if Finch. She can be surly as it is; do you really want to deal with a hungry, hormonal, pissed-off Shaw complaining about the lack of proper facilities?”

Finch thought it over for a moment. “I see your point. I will get on that as soon as possible. If there is anything else you need, please let me know.”

“I’ll get you a list,” Shaw assured him.

“You are all put on notice though,” she said, pointing at the three men. “Root’s not gonna stop working for the Machine so that means you answer your phones when she’s out of town.”

“Duly noted,” Reese acknowledged. “Does that mean we should plan for sleepovers?”

Shaw made a face. “Definitely not, but don’t lose your keys.”

“You guys probably don't have a registry set up yet, do you?” Carter asked. 

“We just found out a little bit ago; honestly this is the first thing we thought to do," Root told her.

“Then leave it to me; I’ll take care of everything and let the two of you know when and where you need to be.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “I don't suppose there’s anything I could say to dissuade you?”

“Having a baby shower is an integral part of having a baby; you’re going to come over to my place and let us give you presents.”

“Don’t worry Carter, we’ll be there,” Root said, not taking her eyes off her partner.

“Whatever. Just as long as there aren't any strippers. Last thing I need is some oversexed, steroid-popping, beefcake waving his stuffed thong in my face.”

Carter smirked. “And what about stuffed bras?”

“No strippers, male or female,” Shaw insisted.

“Really? Not even one?” Root asked with a pout.

“Am I the only one who thinks it’d be weird to have strippers at a baby shower?” Fusco asked.

Reese just averted his gaze while Harold held his hands up in a pacifying gesture.

“Whatever. No strippers, just presents then.”

“And cake. If I gotta have a party thrown by you schmucks, I want cake.”

“Then cake you shall have. I know better to stand between you and what you want.”

\- Baby on Board -

Shaw had been dozing by herself in the bed, having retired two hours ago when Root slipped under the covers. She laid her left arm out and wrapped it around Root’s shoulders as her partner laid her head on her breast, one hand settling on the barely perceptible curve of Shaw’s stomach. Except to Root, who knew her body so well that the fractional increase in Shaw’s stomach was as sharply delineated as a mountain in a plain.

“It still doesn't feel quite real,” Root said quietly after a few minutes.

“Trust me, it’s gonna be real enough before much longer. I still remember my neonatal rotation well enough that it will be plenty real enough for you. Just you wait until I'm waking you up at three am with morning sickness. Or when I need you to walk down and get Korean or Italian at one. Or when-”

“Okay, I get it. I'm gonna be sick of you telling me to do stuff. Still doesn't change anything right now. We’re-”

“Or when the kid’s actually here she’s up every two hours needing fed, or when she craps herself in public and voms down your back-”

“I get it, I get it, we’re having a baby,” Root said, the joy in her voice such that Shaw couldn't help the smile that curved her lips.

“We’re having a baby,” Shaw repeated with a smile of her own, only slightly more subdued.

\- Baby on Board -

The room was still dark when Root awoke, not sure what had roused her for the first few seconds. The digital clock on her nightstand told her it was just after five in the morning when she turned her head and saw the sliver of light spilling from the cracked bathroom door. She had just sat up, noticing that Shaw’s side of the bed was empty when she heard the sound of vomiting from the bathroom. Sure enough, her Persian sociopath was on her knees worshipping the porcelain throne. Root stopped only to wet a hand towel before joining Shaw on the floor. Root pulled her hair aside to wipe her sweaty, pale brow and the nape of her neck.

Root waited until the fit passed and Shaw sat back on her haunches before she pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Feeling better?” Shaw gave Root a severe look as if to say 'how the hell do you think I feel?’ “Alright, alright,” Root said raising her hands up in surrender. “Do you think you’ll be coming back to bed anytime soon or should I just start on breakfast?” Shaw opened her mouth to reply but her stomach chose that moment to contract. “So no breakfast yet.”

“I’m thinking of swearing off food altogether,” Shaw replied when she sat back again.

“You don't mean that,” Root said lowly, trying to hide her amusement.

She knew she had failed when Shaw spoke though. “If you’re just gonna laugh at me you can get out. Otherwise shut up.”

“Your wish is my command,” Root whispered, kissing her on the forehead again.

Shaw took another twenty minutes resting her head on the cool porcelain before she felt steady enough to make her way out to the kitchenette. She barely made it to the bar before the scent of the cooking bacon (which was normally her second or third favorite food) hit her nose and everything returned to green.

“Sweetie?” Root asked when Shaw sat heavily on one of the stools.

“Bacon, trash, now,” Shaw croaked. Root hesitated a moment but hurried over to the trashcan with the pan when she saw Sameen pressing a hand over her mouth.

“So bacon’s off limits, how’re you feeling about pancakes?”

“Pancakes sound okay, but maybe use water instead of milk? I think I’ve had enough puking for the day and I obviously can't speak for my stomach right now.”

“Of course, sweetie. Should I clear the fridge of all dairy, or...”

“Nah, you can keep your gross-ass whole milk for now. No need to go tossing anything yet; let's just play it by ear for the time being.”

Root had never been much of a cook for most of her life but living with Shaw had changed that very quickly. She plated three large pancakes for her, holding a bottle up and arching a questioning eyebrow before proceeding to drown the flapjacks in maple deliciousness.

“You better plan on making yourself some pancakes too before you leave; I know you’ll forget to eat at all if I don’t make you now.”

“As lovely as that sounds, She wanted me to leave ten minutes ago so I really need to get going. I promise I will pick something up the first chance I get.”

“I’m holding you to that. And don’t think I won't check in with your robo-wife to make sure you do.”

“Well, now I have twice the reason to get something to eat. I wouldn't want either of my special ladies to be mad at me,” Root said as she retrieved her favorite brown leather jacket from where it was draped over the back of the couch. “She has a number for Harry; he’ll be calling in a few minutes to put you on surveillance. I don't know how long I’ll be but I’ll call later to see if I can bring you anything to eat.” Root blew a kiss over her shoulder, smirking when Shaw batted it away.

\- Baby on Board -

“What’s that smell?” Carter asked, wrinkling her nose at the acrid stink that permeated the inside of the sedan despite the open windows.

“Take a wild guess; it’s New York and my senses are on overdrive. Someone took a dump around here and it might as well have been right next to my door.”

“Super senses are definitely a double-edged sword. When I was pregnant with Taylor, all the trash had to go outside immediately or well… I think you can imagine.”

“Yeah. I spent a good hour emptying my guts into the toilet this morning. I’m barely pregnant and I’m already ready for this to be done.”

Carter let out a short bark of laughter. “Well, you won't have to deal with the morning sickness forever, but better get used to that nose.”

Shaw’s lips twisted in displeasure. “Please don't remind me. I spent enough time on neonatal during my residency that I know all those fun little factoids you can tell me.”

“So Finch says you’ve been on stakeout since this morning; he wanted me to come relieve you so you wouldn't be tempted to do anything should the number get into trouble.”

“Christ, what is it with men thinking that we turn into glass the moment sperm meets egg? Or egg meets chemically treated DNA in my case.”

“Normally I would agree with you, but Finch does have a point. When I found out I was pregnant with Taylor, the first thing I did was tell my captain and have him put me on desk duty. I know you got a thing about being protected, but Root had a point when-”

“Aaaaand that’s my cue to leave,” Shaw interrupted, popping the door.

“Hey, Shaw,” Carter called, opening her own door and rested one arm against the roof of the sedan. She waited for Shaw to stop and reluctantly turn around before she continued. “I'm being serious, you do anything to risk that,” she said, circling a finger in the direction of the other woman’s stomach, “you and I will have words.”

Shaw just rolled her eyes and turned away. “Sure thing, Mom. I’d imagine you’d have to get in line though. Let you know when I’m back at the Library.”


	2. Month the Second - Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dead. My heart and mind are in tatters and fanfiction is the only thing that is keeping me sane. I know Root is supposed to turn up in some fashion during this crapass drawn-out three part finale that CBS is foisting on us after shotgunning the rest of the season, but Shaw losing Root almost as soon as Root got her back is just plain cruel on any number of levels. Hopefully this will help alleviate some of the suffering tho it wasn't as fluffy as I had originally planned. Tho its the longest chap in the series so far, so enjoy that.
> 
> Unbeta'd and very lightly proofread, so any and all errors are mine.
> 
> As usual, prompts are welcomed with open arms.

“Good morning, Ms. Shaw. How are we feeling today?” Sameen Shaw had been waiting in the examination room for half an hour and her patience, thin as it usually was was stretched to the breaking point.

"Like I'm two months pregnant," Shaw groused.

"Well, now you are pregnant, you are going to have to get used to seeing me a lot more." Shaw grunted sitting back on the bed at Dr. Reeds gesture. “In fact, this should be our third or fourth meeting, not our second.”

“Been busy,” was all Shaw said.

“Right. You told me you used to be a doctor so you know that excuses like that won't fly with me. I take pride in the reputation of my practice and I don’t like my patients losing babies because they can't follow doctors orders. Doctor.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “I was late in scheduling my prenatal appointments; it’s hardly like I’ve been chugging absinthe and smoking Cubans.”

“Not that I could or would know. Regardless, you of all people should know that prompt, precise prenatal care is vital to the health of both mother and child.”

“Christ, doc. If I swear that I won't miss another appointment, will you leave off? I get enough grief from my… team… that I really don't need any here.”

“Fine. But I will hold you to that. If you don't mind my asking, where’s your partner?”

“Spain. She travels for her job a lot.”

“And what do the two of you do?”

“We help people in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“That’s… Complicated.”

“Complicated?” Reeds asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“I used to be in the Marines. Let’s just say those skills are still applicable.”

“And would it be safe to assume your partner is in this same, related field?”

Shaw nodded. “Though I don't see how this has anything to do with my checkup.”

“It doesn't,” Reeds said lightly. “I just like to get to know my patients. What they do for a living, plans for the future. I’m in the business of making families, making happy endings and all that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really into feelings, so if we could stick to the strictly medical stuff, I’d appreciate it.”

“Very well. Let’s get you on the scale and we can get you out of here quicker.” Shaw grunted her approval, sliding off the bed and onto the scale. She answered Reeds' questions about how she was feeling, whether she was sleeping well. Whether there was any unusual tenderness or other sensations.

Once she had answered Reeds' questions to her satisfaction, the doctor took her blood pressure and had her pee in a cup. Shaw waved her off when she asked if there was anything else she needed, shucking the paper gown as Reeds left.

The nurse at the counter had just handed her card back when her phone rang, the call connecting automatically.

_“Hey sweetie. How’d the doctor’s visit go?”_

“Hello to you too, Root. How’s Spain?”

 _“Balmy. How’d the doctor’s visit go?”_ Root repeated. 

“Just fine. Of course, you’d know that if you hadn’t skipped out of bed before I was awake without saying anything when the Machine crooked her finger.”

_“Sweetie-”_

“Sweetie nothing Root,” Shaw growled. “I _told_ you things had to change if we did this and so far, I’m not seeing much. Seriously woman, you left a _note_.”

_“You were tossing all night, I figured you needed all the sleep you could get.”_

“Then you figured wrong, Root. You're usually a pretty smart woman yet you think I'd be okay with you disappearing without a word to take a plane to _Spain?“_

Root didn’t say anything for a long few seconds, long enough that Shaw might have thought the call had been dropped if they hadn't been on the Machine’s network.

“ _My bad, sweetie.”_

“Yeah, your bad. Just don't do it again and I won't have a reason to get Carter on your ass. “

 _“You like my ass far too much to do that, “_ Root stated confidently.

“Disappear on me like this again and you'll find out how true that is. Keep in mind I _am_ a sociopath. “

“ _We both know that's not strictly true, anymore at least. You love me~”_ Root sang, drawing out the ‘o’ in ‘love.’

Shaw scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that.“

_“Yet you agreed to have my kid, that’s not nothing.”_

“Something I’m already regretting.”

There was a long pause that made Shaw wince. _“Really?”_ Root asked quietly.

Shaw sighed, closing her eyes and letting her head drop. “No, Root. I'm not actually regretting it, I’m just annoyed. Like really annoyed. When are you going to be back?”

_“Two days? The situation’s a bit fluid at the moment, but by Friday for sure.”_

“I’m holding you to that. And you too, Machine. I know you’re listening, so I’m telling you, you get her home by Friday or there’ll be Hell to pay. Got it?”

_‘Acknowledged. Analogue Interface primary objective estimated time of completion: thirty-two hours, sixteen minutes, forty-two seconds.’_

Shaw grunted. “That counting the fourteen or so hours it takes to fly from Spain to NYC?”

_‘Analog Interface has been booked on Delta Flight 1148, departing at one-thirty pm Thursday._

_‘Estimated time of arrival three forty-five am, Friday.’_

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. “So that means she’ll be rolling into bed at like, what, five? You sure as hell better be planning on giving her at least ten hours of downtime.”

_“Sweetie, you know she doesn't call me away unless it's important.”_

“Yeah, well, prenatal appointments are important too.”

_“I’m really sorry I missed it. There’s nothing more I’d like than to be with you right now.”_

“Whatever. I’ve said my piece. Call me when you get on your flight.”

_“Will do. Love you, Sameen.”_

\- Baby on Board -

"So can you tell me what we’re doing here now?" Shaw grumbled, letting Root drag her along Madison Avenue by their linked arms.

“It's a surprise,” Root purred into her ear.

Shaw rolled her eyes and suppressed a groan. “Fine. At least tell me how long we’re gonna be here?” She eyes the trophy wives with bags hanging from the crooks of their arms and well-dressed financiers and other upper crust New Yorkers strolling the sidewalk.

“A couple hours, at least. Clothes shopping can take a while.”

“Seriously? You brought me clothes shopping?”

“Why not? You’re getting bigger and your old clothes won't fit before much longer.”

“Yeah, but what’s wrong with ordering clothes online?

“Because then I can't see you try on all the cute maternity outfits.”

“Hell no,” Shaw said, drawing the first word out. “I am _not_ playing dress up for you.”

“But what will we do to spend the time while we surveil our number?”

“We’re here for a number? Why didn't you just say so?”

“I just did.”

“Root,” Shaw growled. “Are you absolutely sure we’re here for a number?”

“Sweetie, would I lie to you?” Shaw shot her partner a flat look. “Alright, alright, don’t answer that. But the first doesn't preclude the second. You do need new clothes.”

“Fine. Who’s our number?”

Root fished out her phone and thumbed up a photo of their number. “Becca Henderson, twenty-six, single, lives in TriBeCa, works as a shopping assistant and supervising manager at Madison’s Maternity. No obvious indications of criminality or victimhood but she does have a string of less than upstanding boyfriends.”

Shaw grunted. “So odds are one of them took their breakup less than gracefully?”

“She does have restraining orders against two of them, a Brian McPherson and Fredrick Jacobs,” Root said, bringing up their photos and tilting her phone so Shaw could see them. “Both petty criminals, neither with any serious criminal connections so the likelihood of either of them showing up at her workplace is pretty minimal.”

“Assuming that they’re the threat in the first place.”

“Assuming they’re the threat,” Root agreed with a tilt of her head. “Anyways, Madison’s closes in four hours, so it won't be hard to stay until closing.”

“Fine, I’ll play Barbie doll for you, but you owe me big time.”

“Sweetie, you should know by now that you don’t have to get me to ‘owe’ if you want me to do something for you.”

“So you’re saying that if I didn't want to do the dishes for a week, you’d just let me skate?”

“If you really didn't want to do them, sure.”

Shaw smirked. “And if I wanted you to stop leaving your computer projects strewn all over the tv and dining room?”

“I spread out a bit when I work sometimes, but I always pick up after myself.”

“Tell that to my feet. I can't tell you how many times I’ve stepped on your crap and cut my feet or something.”

“I will try to be better about keeping my things off the floor, alright?”

“See that you do. But for now, let’s just deal with this number.”

A bell chimed musically when they stepped through the front door, the pair pausing to scan the store. It wasn’t a large space, but the mirrors placed along the walls reflected the light that came in through the glass front so that it appeared much larger than it actually was.

Becca was a pretty, freckled redhead dressed in the store’s floral print uniform dress. She approached, hands folded with a small, plastic smile curling her lips. “Good afternoon, Ms. Shaw, Ms Root. Welcome to Madison’s Maternity; my name is Becca and I will be your personal shopping assistant today. Is there anything you were looking for in particular?”

“Say, Becca, we wouldn't by any chance have an appointment or something here, do we?”

“Of course you did Ms. Shaw. I had a client cancel at the last minute, so I had an opening today when your partner called.”

Shaw shot Root a look. “You don’t say.”

“But to answer your question-”

“Underwear, to start. I need some new bras. I'm already starting to get that stupid double boob bulge.” Beccas smile brightens slightly at the opportunity to help and guides them to the intimates section. Shaw ignores Root as she picks out a pair of plain black padded silk bras (because if they have anything as utilitarian as cotton she's not seeing it) and heads to the changing room.

Root remains behind with Becca which she isn't sure to be glad for or worried about. On the one hand, Root wasn't following her into the changing room and getting frisky, but on the other, she's unsupervised with the number.

Sure enough, Root is waiting with an armful of thankfully dull outfits. Shaw takes a second of internal debate before she accepts the clothes.  They do have several hours to kill and the clothes Root picked out weren't all completely horrid.

Fortunately, Becca isn't a complete ditz and picks up on Shaw's mood, suggesting they quit the clothes section after only a half dozen trips into the changing room. Though, if Shaw were being honest with herself, most of the clothes weren't that bad.  While she had never been poor, she'd never been exactly wealthy either, and the types of stores that lined Madison Avenue rather outside her budget even if she had ever been inclined to shop there.

Still, she was grateful when Becca led them to another section that more closely resembled an electronics store than one that catered to expectant mothers.

“Root, you and Becca go on ahead, I'm gonna visit the facilities, “ because she has to pee, _again,_ and it's a good opportunity to check out the security setup to see how robbable the place is on the off chance Becca isn't in danger of being murdered.

Its sadly lacking, only three cameras for the entire store, one aimed at the front door, one at the cashiers and the last at the changing rooms. “For a high end store, this place has crap security," she informed Root when she tapped her earwig. “Only three cameras and none of them that useful.”

Root didn't reply, simply sending a double beep of acknowledgement. She found her a few minutes later shoulder to shoulder with the number, heads bent over examining something.

Becca looked up around Root and the pair stopped talking, Root hurriedly putting something back on the shelf before Shaw could see what she had been holding. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, she gave each woman a look before examining the shelf.

Root had managed to line whatever she had been holding up well enough that Shaw couldn't tell what she had taken.

“Why don't you go sit down in one of the chairs, sweetie. All this stuff won't be very interesting to you.”

Shaw rolled her eyes and turned away. “If you want to make it a surprise, just say so.”

Root won’t leave the number alone, so she feels confident enough to relax into one of the ridiculously comfy overstuffed armchairs. She rolls her neck back to relieve the tension that had been building, and she would swear high and low that she only closed her eyes for a moment. But the next thing she knows, Root’s hand is on her arm and the sun is starting to shine in through the front windows.

“Shit,” she mumbles, leaping to her feet and just barely managing to keep from whipping her Beretta out on reflex. “What happened? What time is it?”

“You fell asleep, sweetie. It’s time to go.”

“Let’s hurry and get our shit paid for then,” Shaw grumbled in irritation, though her annoyance is mostly aimed at herself.

“Already done, and it’s all in the car already. Becca’s just going to lock up behind us.”

Sure enough, the store was deserted, the three of them the last ones left as far as Shaw could tell.

They’d gone three blocks before Root noticed the white-knuckled grip Shaw had on the steering wheel. “Sweetie, you okay?” Root asked, running her fingers along Shaw’s bare forearm.

“You let me sleep. In the middle of a mission,” Shaw growled.

“One of the books I was reading on the plane said that you should listen to your body; cravings are supposed to mean you need certain nutrients and to sleep as much as you need to.”

“And what if Becca had turned out to be the perp?” Shaw asked tightly. “What if she had put a gun to your ribs, walked you outside, taken you somewhere and I woke up and you’d just disappeared?”

“That wouldn’t have happened.”

“Why? Because the Machine says so?”

“Because I’m a better operator than that,” Root replied silkily.

Shaw didn't reply, simply glaring out the windshield. “Sweetie-”

“I just thought that you’d have more sense than you actually do. Because going solo on a number is not how you stick around.”

“Seriously Shaw, there was no danger. She says there’s only an eleven percent chance that Becca is a perpetrator and I know you were up most of the night. You really did need a lie-down.”

“Eleven percent is not zero, which is too much no matter what the Machine says. I know there’s no such thing as zero risk in our line of work, but I just assumed you would know well enough to avoid the unnecessary ones.”

Shaw closed her eyes briefly and took in a breath letting it out between clenched teeth. Anger was her oldest, most familiar companion but even she could recognize that this was not her usual flavor. Root letting her doze off in the middle of a mission was an annoyance, not something that should make her snap the other woman’s nose off.

Root’s hand slid up her arm to caress the back of her neck. Tension leeched from her as Root tangled her slender fingers in the short hairs at the base of her neck.

“You feel better?” Root asked after a moment.

Shaw gave a short, jerky nod, lips pursed. “I didn't used to get scared. Not after the car crash that killed my dad, not once in medical school, or in the Marines or in the Activity. Now, it’s all I feel, or so it seems. When I wake up and you’re already up or somewhere else because of the Machine. Or when I hear gunfire and I know you’re the one being shot at. It sucks and I hate it.”

“I don't,” Root purred in a voice that matched the adoration bursting from her gaze.

“Of course you don't, you probably just think it’s romantic or something.”

“Or something,” Root agreed, smile not dimming a single watt.

Root, as usual, proved that she knew her better than she knew herself and let the rest of the ride pass in blissful silence.

The number stopped at her apartment for about an hour before she departed on foot. That was fortunate because it was now after seven and they passed several food trucks as well as several restaurants. Root picked them up a medium supreme pizza from an Italian place and they ate on the move. Becca entered Albert Capsouto Park, slowing as she looked around, clearly searching for someone.

A quick call had her trotting off, quickly locating her target, a black man waiting by a blanket, picnic supplies already arranged.

“I thought you said she was single?” Shaw asked as the pair embraced.

“That’s what her social media says. It would seem that her online life lags behind her real one.”

Another ten minutes passed before Shaw nudged Root in the ribs, pointing to a familiar-looking man with a very familiar expression. “Say, doesn't that look an awful lot like Brian McPherson?”

“And he does not look happy to Becca with a new friend.” Root moved to intercept him, his anger-induced tunnel vision allowing the hacker to place a hand on his chest before he even noticed her.

“Brian, Brian. I know what you’re thinking, that’s your girl over there with another man. There's just two things wrong with that thought.”

Root’s sudden appearance threw him for a second but he reoriented quickly. “Listen lady, I don't know who you are but you really have no idea what’s going on here so I’m gonna just go talk to my girlfriend over there and we can both be on with our day.”

“She might consider your offer, if that woman was still your girlfriend,” Shaw said as she stepped up on Root’s right side.

McPherson was not a small man and neither of them were particularly imposing, so he simply decided to push through them. Shaw grabbed his hand as he brushed past her and twisted his thumb so that simple mechanics meant that he could either go to his knees or break his hand.

Looking over his shoulder in genuine surprise, he didn't remain on his knees for more than a moment. Pivoting on his toes, he uncurled his arm and drove his palm into Shaw’s nose. She stumbled, hands going to dam the sudden spurt of blood. Root froze, eyes showing whites all around as she took in the sight.

“Ged ‘i'm,” the stocky Persian said, waving her off. “Prodedct da numbah.” Root looked back over her shoulder and McPherson was stomping to the lovebirds. There were many things Root was, a brilliant hacker, dead eye with anything that could be wielded in one hand and Shaw now knew that she was damn fast. It made sense, given the way her legs went on for miles, but Root closed the thirty or so yard gap in seconds.

McPherson the perp had just gotten close enough that Becca and her manfriend just noticed him when Root took him down with a flying tackle from behind. The pair rolled and McPherson ended up on top.

Having been diverted from his target twice now, he was determined she didn't interfere a third time, dropping hammerfist punches down on Root. She blocked the first couple just fine and swung a leg up to hook him around the throat and slam his head back into the turf. She pivoted up as he went down and she drove a pair of quick jabs at his face before he could recover from the first impact.

When she was sure he wouldn't be a problem in the immediate future, she sat up to find Becca and her picnic buddy had approached. “Root? What’s going on?”

“Lo’g story short, we ‘eard Brian ‘ere wa’n’t too thrilled tha’ yo’ go’ a new man in yo’  life,” Shaw said as she strolled up.

Brian picked his head up again, only to have the brunette straddling him punch him yet again.

Shaw cocked an eyebrow. “We’re no’ ‘posed to kill ‘im.”

“I won't. But he made you bleed; I’m the only one who’s allowed to do that.”

Shaw rolled her eyes at the increasingly alarmed looks Becca and her boytoy were giving them. “Don’ listen to ‘er, it’s no’ like tha’.”

Fishing her false FBI credentials out of her jacket, she flipped the little book open for the gathering crowd to see. “Federal agent, this man is wanted on a dozen homicides so please stay back.”

“What? Homicides? I’m not-”

Root slipped her taser out of her pocket and jammed it into his short ribs for a good six or seven seconds. “Before,” she whispered, “was for the girl you’d been terrorizing. That was for hitting my babymomma. Be nice and you won't find any more injuries on our way.”

“So, uh, do you still want that thing delivered?” Becca asked uncertainly.

“Definitely. The shopping was for real, even if we weren't entirely truthful about ourselves.”

Shaw bent over to help Root haul Brian to his feet, one hand still pinching her nose while the other gripped McPherson’s other elbow.

Root smiled widely and waved when they got him standing, waving at the cameras pointed at them filming the arrest. “Smile for the cameras sweetie.”

“You guys have the wrong guy, I swear I’ve never killed anyone!” McPherson insisted as they dragged him away. “All I wanted to do was scare my bitch ex.” He stiffened for a second, eyes going wide as Shaw dug two fingers into his side.

“That right there is a fractured rib. I can break it very easily if you keep running your mouth. I'm pregnant and hormonal and completely unpredictable so trust me, you _really_ don't want to test me.”

Their thoroughly traumatized perpetrator snapped his mouth shut and let the two women drag him to their vehicle.

“So,” Root said, turning in her seat to face Brian. “We're not actually FBI. But we do have eyes everywhere and every single one of them will be watching you twenty-four-seven until the day you die. If you ever approach your ex again, we will come find you and our next conversation won't nearly be so pleasant. Capiche?”

Brian nodded. “Good,” Shaw continued. “Now we’re gonna drag you down to the nearest police precinct and you will admit to breaking your restraining order. Got it?”

Brian nodded again.

Root had just pulled out into traffic when her phone rang, Finch’s voice coming in over the earpiece. _“Miss Groves, I just had a news alert pop up about a man getting subjected to unreasonable force while being arrested by a pair of female, brunette FBI agents. I don’t suppose there’s any chance that those FBI agents wouldn't be you and Miss Shaw?”_

“He was a big guy who was deliberately terrorizing our number. And he gave Sameen a bloody nose.”

 _“Is she alright?”_ Harold asked, voice rising with worry.

“I'm fine, Finch. Didn't even break it, just popped a blood vessel. We’re gonna take him to the cops for breaking his RO and then we’re heading home for the night. Unless another number has come up.”

_“One has, but Mister Reese and Lieutenant  Carter have it handled for now. I just wanted to get an update on the situation.”_

“Well, the situation’s handled so you can quit worrying,” Shaw replied.

_“Very well, Miss Shaw. Have a safe evening.”_

Shaw clicked her earpiece off and turned to Root. “So, what do you say to some Ruths Chris after we drop this asshole off?”

“I’d say that sounds just about perfect.”


	3. Month the Third - Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last, uh, half of this chapter is for skimmonshoot. Totally hadn't planned for the thing to be half the chapter but it kinda got away from me and here we are.

“So I see the rumors are true,” Zoe Morgan murmured as she slipped onto the stool next to Sameen Shaw, giving the dusky woman a long once-over. Shaw was eating lunch at a diner in the Greenwich, tearing into a footlong meatball sub.

“Was wondering how long it’d take you to find out,” Shaw replied through a mouthful of sandwich. “We had a pool going.”

“And who won?”

“Carter,” Shaw replied sourly. “I’m out five hundred because you weren’t quicker on the uptake.”

Zoe smirked. “Sorry I don't hang around you guys more. It’s been a couple months since we’ve worked together. So how did that even happen? You never struck me as the motherly type.”

“Neither did I, but Root got the baby bug. She couldn’t have one, so…”

Zoe let out a low whistle. “Man, battle-hardened, man-killing ex-assassin extraordinaire and she’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“She so does _not_ have me wrapped around her little finger.”

“Right, because that,” Zoe said, pointing at Shaw’s stomach, “screams strong, independent woman with no strings attached.”

“If you’re just gonna snark at me you can leave,” Shaw growled as she took another large, angry bite of her sandwich.

“Actually I tracked you down to get ahold of your wife. I need some hacking done.”

“Root is not my wife,” Shaw growled around her food. “What do you need done?”

“I have a client who was hacked recently, some very sensitive, potentially criminal information stolen.”

Shaw fished her phone out of her slightly-too-tight jeans and dropped it on the table, dialing Root with her unoccupied hand

_“Hey sweetie, what’s up?”_

“You’re on speaker, Root. Zoe has a question for you.”

Shaw only listened with half an ear as Zoe gave the details of the job to her partner. Zoe relayed the general parameters of what she needed done, which boiled down to figuring out who hacked the client and the destruction of the compromising information.

“So you guys are having a baby. We have to get together soon so I can get all the juicy details on how _that_ happened.”

_“It’s pretty simple actually, I asked and she said yes.”_

“Really?” Zoe asked, tone enhanced by the arch of a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Shaw sighed. “Zoe, think about who you’re talking to. Do you have any doubt she would lie her ass off to inflate my part in this shitshow?”

“Point,” Zoe chuckled.

_“You wound me, Sameen. To say that I would lie about something so close to my heart is a terrible thing.”_

“Root, you’re a professional liar. You literally lie for a living and take unholy joy in pushing boundaries at every possible opportunity, so yeah, I’m gonna tell it as it is.”

“And what is ‘it?’” Zoe inquired.

“I only got pregnant because Root couldn't.”

Zoe grinned. “Now that sounds like you.”

“If you make another comment about me being whipped, I swear…”

_“Oh, so Zoe’s caught on?”_

“I hate you both,” Shaw growled as she shoved the last of her sandwich in her mouth and slapped a fifty dollar bill on the counter. “I gotta swing by the the grocery store. I may have finished off your goat cheese this morning.”

_“There was at least a third of a container left? What’d you do, make a dip?”_

“No. I thought I wanted some in my eggs. Turns out I didn't.”

Root sighed. _“Well, as long as you get more, it’s fine.”_

“If there’s anything else you want me to get while I’m out, text me.”

 _“Sure thing, sweetie. Now, as much as I’d love to continue this conversation, there’s a man that I really need to have a word with.”_ The slam of a car door and the tap-tap-tap of Root’s heeled boots pounding asphalt came over the speaker. _“I’m probably going to be home late tonight, so don't bother waiting up for me.”_

“Just call when you know you’ll be home.”

_“Sure thing. Now, I really gotta go. Love you.”_

“What?” Shaw demanded when she noticed the look on Zoe’s face.

“Nothing. It’s just cute seeing you all domestic.”

Shaw opened her mouth to spit out a retort, but then thought better of it. Zoe was like Root in many ways and as she had learned from long experience, engagement rarely paid off. Sliding off her seat, she made a beeline for the door, Zoe trailing in her wake.

“In all seriousness though, I really am happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Shaw replied gruffly after a few seconds.

“Anyways, this is me,” Zoe said as they came up on a black chauffeured town car. “Can I give you a ride anywhere?”

“Nah, I want to walk.”

“Well, nice seeing you again.  And congratulations. Really,” Zoe said as she stepped into the car.

\- Baby on Board -

 _“Honey, I’m home~!”_ Root sang as she stepped through the front door of their penthouse apartment. It was just after nine, the sun having set hours ago so the only illumination came from the city lights shining through the triple-paned floor-to-ceiling windows that made up most of the back wall.

“Shut the fuck up Root!” Shaw shouted back somewhat indistinctly from somewhere further inside.

The hacker just smirked, shrugging out of her jacket and hanging it up in the closet. “Where are you?” she called out after finding the living room, kitchen and Shaw-cave empty.

“In the bathroom.”

“Well, don’t you look relaxed,” Root purred as she crossed her arms and leaned against the jamb of the open doorway.

Root had been head-over-heels in love with Shaw from the moment she laid eyes on her and had let it be known in no uncertain terms that she thought the Persian assassin was the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on.

She had seen her in gorgeous ball gowns and nigh-indecent minidresses, in jeans and tank tops and khakis and oxfords, covered up from head to toe and wearing nothing but a pair of zip-ties, but the sight before her stole her breath away.

Shaw was reclined in the large whirlpool tub, drowning in bubbles and illuminated by at least a dozen scented candles casting a warm, golden glow over her dusky features. She had her hair tied up in a bun, her head thrown back over and supported by a bath pillow, eyes closed. It was a state of relaxation that Root rarely saw, heart swelling with the knowledge that she was the only person on Earth to earn that privilege.

“You have dinner yet?”

“Hit a drive-through about an hour ago. Got a burger with fries and everything.”

“Then are you going to just stand there all night or are you gonna join me?” Shaw inquired, cracking an eye.

Root pushed off the door jamb and crossed the distance in a breath, kneeling down to press her lips to a heated, languid kiss. “What was that for?” Shaw asked when Root pulled away. She tried to maintain an air of indifference, but the heat in her cheeks and the smirk on Root’s lips told her she had failed.

“Do I need a reason to kiss the most beautiful woman in my world?” Root husked.

The flame in Shaw’s cheeks rose and she turned her head, looking away. “Are you gonna get in or not?” Shaw asked instead of answering the question. Root divested herself of her garments with all speed and placed a gentle hand on Shaw’s back to get her to scoot forward. Slipping in behind her, Root wrapped her arms around Shaw’s torso, bringing her back against her chest.

Burying her nose in Shaw’s hair she inhaled deeply, tightening her grip as she did so.

“Everything okay? You’re being awfully affectionate today,” Shaw asked as Root began peppering her neck with kisses and fondling her breasts.

“I’m just can't believe how in love, how fortunate I am to have you in my life,” Root murmured in between pecks. “So many people say it, but I truly am the luckiest woman in the world.”

Frowning slightly, Shaw turned in Root’s embrace to look at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don't, I dunno, have cancer or a heart condition or something?”

“I swear to the Machine that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. It’s just… this seems like a dream sometimes. Given where I came from, the crimes I’ve committed, the people I’ve hurt… And to come home to this? It doesn’t-”

“Seem real,” Shaw interrupted quietly. “I know. Sometimes I wonder too. For most of my life I assumed I would die alone, most likely somewhere nobody knew my name and end up in an unmarked grave. That I’d never find anyone who make this,” she said as she laid Root’s hand over her stomach with hers, “possible, let alone something I’d want.”

“I know what you mean. Frankly, I never expected to make it to thirty.”

Shaw snorted. “Risks you take, I’m surprised you made it to twenty.”

“Yeah well, those days are behind me,” she murmured, pressing a kiss behind her ear. “I have something to come home to now. I’ve never had that before.”

“You never talk about your family. I heard about the thing with Hannah, but you’ve never said a word about your mom or dad.”

“Never had one, not really. Mom got pregnant with me just out of high school and in small-town Texas, that was practically a capital crime. Needless to say, my dad didn't hang around, so that meant Mom was on her own. The town basically shunned her and she didn't have any family herself to help. She tried but had no idea what she was doing and I’ll admit I didn't make things any easier, especially after Hannah was murdered.”

Shaw didn't know what to say to that so she simply twined her fingers through Root’s and squeezed.

\- Baby on Board -

“Good morning, Shaw, Root,” Dr. Linda Reeds said cheerfully as she entered the examination room. “How are we feeling this morning?”

“Haven’t puked in two days and don't need to pee every twenty minutes so pretty good.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You have any tenderness, headaches, blurred vision?”

Shaw shook her head. “Haven't felt this good since before you and I did the thing that one special afternoon.”

“You must be feeling good if you’re cracking jokes,” Reeds shot back, rolling in on her chair with a needle. Once she’d completed her usual battery of tests, Reeds grabbed the ultrasound machine by the stand and rolled it close. “Ready to see your baby?”

Shaw didn't say anything, just laid back on the bed and pulled the hem of her gown up. She let out a slight hiss when Reeds spread the gel over her stomach and inhaled sharply as the image resolved.

_“Oah khoday men.”_

“Is that- are- am I seeing what I think?”

“If you think you’re seeing twins, then you’d be right.”

Root’s grip tightened to the point Shaw could feel the metacarpals of her hand grinding together the same way Root’s surely were, her grip no looser.

“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing? Root at a loss for words?” Shaw asked shen Root just stared at the screen for long seconds. “Hey, doc, can you get video of this?”

“Very cute, Sameen,” Root replied warmly, turning away from the screen to bring her megawatt smile to bear on Shaw. “Can we get printouts?”

“Sure thing,” Reeds replied. “This alters how we need to treat your pregnancy though, Shaw. As I’m sure you're aware, a multiple pregnancy is naturally high risk so I’d like to bring in my perinatologist to consult.”

“What do you mean by ‘high risk?’” Root asked sharply, jerking her head around to affix Reeds with a matching look. “Is Sameen in danger?”

“It’s just how a multiple pregnancy is, Root,” Shaw answered, sitting up. “Two fetuses just means more variables in play, more stress on my body. I’m gonna need to see Dr Reeds and a specialist more often, but it’s nothing that can’t be managed.”

“Dr. Thomas Meracht is the best perinatologist on the Eastern Seaboard and has successfully brought over thirty multiple pregnancies to term without complication. If I was in her situation, there’s nobody else I’d rather have taking care of me.”

That seemed to calm Root down, her other hand moving to stroke the back of Shaw’s already occupied one. “So what does high risk mean? Specifically?”

“Well, as Shaw said, carrying twins means that there is an increased amount of stress and drain of her body’s resources; we will want to keep a close eye on her glucose and iron levels as well as signs for premature birth like infections, amniotic fluid and fetal fibronectin levels and preeclampsia. There’s not much that needs to change in your day-to-day except that she will need to take a few more vitamins and eat more, of course. The fact that Shaw has medical training is a definite bonus, for obvious reasons. While there’s no such thing as a risk-free pregnancy, these are as ideal as we could expect.”

Root didn't look entirely convinced but relaxed a bit when Shaw nodded. “Is Dr. Meracht here?”

Reeds shook her head. “As I said, he’s the best perinatologist around; my clinic isn't the only place that has him on the payroll. His schedule has him back in the city Thursday, day after tomorrow. How does ten a.m. sound?” the doctor asked after consulting her tablet.

The pair exchanged a quick look and Shaw nodded. “Good; I’ll see you then.”

\- Baby on Board -

Playing nerd, while something she was something she was fully capable of doing, was definitely in Shaw’s top-ten least favorite things to do, especially while Root was on a job. There wasn’t much to do at the moment, the barely-secured security cameras of the hotel only taking a few seconds to hack,  Root waiting for her target to show up in the lounge.

“I want it on the record that I do not approve of this plan and think it is super fucking terrible,” Shaw said from command station in the Library. “In fact, this could quite possibly be the worst idea you’ve ever had Root.”

_“Relax, Sameen, we’ve been over the plan a dozen times. Zoe and Joss won’t let anything happen to me.”_

_“We’ve got her covered,”_ Carter commed from her position in her car across the street. _“We won’t let anything happen to your girl.”_

 _“What she said, Shaw,”_ Zoe added from where she was nursing a martini at that bar.

_“And target incoming by the way.”_

“Identity confirmed,” Shaw announced as the photos the detective snapped popped up on one of the secondary monitors.

 _“Heather Lamarr?”_ their target asked as he approached the brunette hacker.

 _“That would be me,”_ Root replied with a coy smile and not-so-subtle once-over. _“I take it you’re Jean Durand? I have to admit, I’m relieved that you actually match your photo.”_ Root took the hand ‘Durand’ offered, letting him pull her to her feet.

_“As am I. You can’t ever really know what you’re getting into with this Internet dating thing.”_

_“Oh I absolutely agree,”_ Root said, giving a giggle at the end.

Shaw growled. “Ease up Root, the guy’s ex-DGSE, lay it on too thick and he’ll know you’re a plant.”

 Root didn't reply of course and followed her date to their table in the attached restaurant. None of the security cameras in the restaurant were positioned to see Root’s face, but her body language, open and clearly interested had Shaw gritting her teeth. ‘Durand’ pulled her chair out for her and had a bottle of wine at their table just a minute later.

 _“Hey Shaw, you okay? We can hear your teeth grinding,”_ Carter broke in.

“Just peachy,” the Persian replied tightly.

 _“Right, because I can feel your glare from halfway across the city,”_ Zoe adds.

“I’m glaring because this guy’s a fucking tool. Seriously, Root doesn’t even like white wine,” Shaw growled, watching Root take a mouthful of the clear alcohol. “And what kind of asshat goes with ‘Galahad’ for his codename?”

_“So, what do you do for a living? Your profile says you work in computers for Cotivion.”_

_“I do, though I really shouldn't say any more. My boss takes security very seriously. I have to use a special app on my phone to decrypt my workstation before I can do anything more than log on.”_

_“Well, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with your boss so why don't we talk about something less legally compromising. Your profile said you collect obsolete technology?”_

Shaw was left to grumble and groan for the next forty-five minutes as Root pretended to be utterly charmed by the Eurpoean fixer sitting opposite. She tried to distract herself by playing fetch and tug with Bear, but every girlish giggle and throaty hum reminded her of exactly what Root was doing.

Eventually, Root got herself invited up to Galahad’s suite, Shaw skidding back to her station when Root suggested they take dessert upstairs.

“Carter, Zoe..”

“ _On it,”_ the two women replied in sync. Shaw followed Root with the cameras, pressing her lips into a thin white line when the hacker allowed Galahad to stand close enough that she’d be breathing in his exhalations in the elevator.

 _“Root is perfectly capable of handling herself in hand-to-hand combat,”_ Carter reminds Shaw unnecessarily.

“I know that; I’m the one who trained her. But she’s smiling too much and he’s ex-French spec-ops and calls himself Galahad. You don’t think he won’t expect something she won't give him when they finish up?”

Shaw tries to ignore it when Root asks Galahad if he wants a drink, the clinking of ice on glass and liquid being poured.   _“Relax Sameen; he would hardly be the first suitor I have discouraged from pressing the issue too far. Besides, I have my taser with me. Give me a few minutes here and I’ll have things tied up on my end.”_

 _“That would be quite the achievement,”_ Galahad replies, his words accompanied by the all-too-audible of a hammer being thumbed back. _“I’m really quite disappointed in you, Root. You were supposed to be quite formidable back in the day, but it seems your white hat has made you soft and predictable.”_

Shaw’s on her feet in an instant, every muscle in her body spring-coil tight with the knowledge that Root is in mortal danger and there’s very little she can do about it.

Root doesn't even try to play it off. _“How’d you know it was me?”_

Galahad scoffs. _“Even if it wasn't common knowledge that you’d switched sides, your cover is terrible. Really, a woman named Heather Lamarr, who just so happens to work for the company that I robbed, with the access I need to decrypt the information gets matched to an alias of mine on OneAndDone.com? This entire setup smells honeytrap.”_

_“And yet, you brought me up to your suite. The one with the glass door and balcony.”_

“Root! What the hell? Why would you say that?” Shaw all but screams into the mic as the sound of shattering glass and bodies tumbling reaches her ears. “John! John? Tell me you got him!”

The continued rifle fire answers her question for her, as do the unmistakable sounds of a fist fight. “Carter, where the hell are you?”

 _“Working on it,”_ she replies between the sounds of splintering wood. _“Coming in John. Don't shoot me.”_

 _“Wouldn't dream of it,”_ he shoots back.

Carter identifies herself a moment later and Root’s breathing evens out. _“Friends in the police? Impressive given your resume. Ah ah, Detective. You are going to stay right where you are unless you want me to snap her neck. I’m wanted for murder in three countries, adding a fourth really won't bother me.”_

“Wait, whoa, what the fuck did he just say? Hold on a sec, lemme get this guy’s number.”

Root passes the message along and Galahad answers his phone on the second ring. _“Hello?”_

“Hey there shitbird, my name’s Sameen Shaw. I am gonna give you one chance to let the woman you’re currently holding at gunpoint or whatever go. You have thirty seconds to return her to my team unharmed or baaaad shit’s gonna happen to you.”

_“Supposing I was willing to entertain your demand, you missed your chance to get her back whole. I already broke one of her arms and I’m pretty sure I broke at least two of her ribs. Two, you’re gonna have to do a lot better than ‘bad shit’ if you want to intimidate anyone tougher than a Girl Scout.”_

“Fine, you will return her in her current condition or I will hunt you down and murder you so hard your last three murder victims will spontaneously resurrect. In fact, I’ll mail you a postcard to let you know I’m coming and there ain't shit you can do about it. I’ll hurt you so bad the devil will ask you for my number so he can get tips. The Geneva Convention will be amended with the Shaw Clause pardoning anyone of any crimes they commit trying to catch me when they find out what I did to you.”

Shaw cuts herself off when she hears someone fire a gun and her heart leaps into her throat. “Root? _Root?”_

_“Relax, Shaw, that was just me kneecapping the guy that kicked your girlfriend’s ass. But that was a seriously supervillain monologue you had there. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or concerned.”_

_“Definitely impressed over here,”_ Zoe said. _“Did you practice that beforehand or was that completely ad-libbed?”_

“Motivation is the king of inspiration. I can give you some tips after I finish chewing Root out. How bad is she?”

_“Pretty sure I’m dying here. I should definitely be taken to a hospital to be checked out; I don't think I can make it all the way back to the Library.”_

_“She’s pretty battered but nothing life-threatening,”_ Carter reported after a quick examination.

_“No, I promise you, I won't make it back to the Library, you really need to take me to a hospital.”_

“Carter…”

_“On my way to the Library. With Root. Zoe, you and John can handle the cleanup here.”_

John let out a long sigh. _“I honestly thought there’d be less paperwork once we got together.”_

_“What can I say, perks of dating the boss. Can't afford to show any favoritism Riley.”_

_“One of these days I’m gonna get you to spill on how managed_ that. _”_

_“And one day, when I’m, extremely drunk, I might tell you. Until then, you’ll just have to suffer in ignorance.”_

Shaw left the command room once Carter and Root made it to her vehicle, ignoring the pathetic little coughs Root made and insistence that she needed a hospital while she prepared the medical supplies she’d need to fix Root up.

“Root, you don’t have a ruptured appendix, though I might give you one if you don't stop trying to weasel out of being brought to the Library.”

Carter sighed. _“I really wish you two would stop threatening the other with bodily harm in front of me. Unlike John, I’m an actual cop and I’m supposed to report that kind of thing.”_

_“Do you think I could get protective custody?”_

_“If you were absolutely anyone else, I’d consider it. Just think of this as your dharmic rewards for all the shit you put me through. You would not believe the amount of paperwork you two alone generate. I have a special drawer just for your shenanigans. Shaw, I’m pulling up now.”_

One of the first things they’d done when they had reclaimed the library was convert one of the the ground-level rooms into an ER, replete with every tool and technology required to treat any injury they might suffer. Shaw had Root’s chest wrapped and her arm set without complications, putting her to sleep with a dose of sedative immediately afterwards.

“Now I’m gonna need your help to get this on her,” Shaw said, pulling out a straightjacket.

“Oh hell no. I can ignore the occasional not-really-serious threat, but actually helping you tie her up is too far. Especially when she’s unconscious.”

“It’s not like that. You’ve met Root right? So what do you think the first thing she’s gonna try to do when she wakes up? She needs at least a week of bedrest and she can pick handcuffs.”

Carter groaned, covering her face with a hand. “You two are like a black hole of immorality. There is no way I should be helping you with this but you’re completely right. Sit her up.”

\- Baby on Board -

The first thing that registered when Root woke up was pain. Her entire right side was a single, pulsing mass of pain that stole her breath. When she could focus past the sensation she realized she wasn't alone, a rather irate Sameen Shaw seated in a recliner that she didn't recall being in the infirmary before.

“Morning sweetie,” Root greeted when she could muster the breath. She tried to raise her left arm and cocked an eyebrow at Shaw when she realized she was in a straightjacket. “Not that I don't like trying new things-”

“Shut up,” Shaw growled in a tone that had her snapping her teeth closed. “I'm gonna say a few things and you are going to sit there and listen. First, how the hell did you let a freaking frog beat the crap out of you?”

“To be fair, I think he was at least half ninja. He did this crazy spinny-kick-thing-”

“Fine, whatever. Just means I get to watch Reese own your ass on the sparring mats. Second, what the hell were you thinking telling Galahad we had a sniper?”

“I was bantering! When two bad guys of our caliber meet face to face for the first time we banter!”

Shaw sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Root, that has got to be the _stupidest_ fucking thing you have ever said. One, you’re not a supervillain in a nineties morning cartoon and two I have specifically forbidden you from pulling that kind of asinine, risky BS, but you continue to ignore me, so of course you get hurt. Now you are gonna stay in that straightjacket until such a time that you convince me you’ll take it easy and allow your body to heal.”

“You know, if you wanted me all tied up and helpless, all you had to do was say so.”

Shaw just sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From what my limited Google-fu was able to tell me, oah khoday men is supposed to mean oh my god in Farsi.


	4. Month the Fourth - Recruitment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a blast writing this one. And dang, they just seem to get longer and longer...

Root was no stranger to pain, having been shot any number of times but broken bones were an entirely new flavor. Waking with broken ribs is supremely unpleasant, jolted from blissful blackness to breath-stealing, red-hot pain.

 _“Fucking ow,”_ the hacker mutters, or something close, when she can focus. It only takes her another moment to realize that she’s restrained and involuntarily struggles against them which did nothing good for her arm or chest.

“Slow your shit down, cowgirl,” a smoky voice instructed, cutting through the haze in her head.

“Shaw, what the- why am I in a straightjacket?” Root asks.

“Don't you remember last night?"

Root eyed the IV bag that was feeding a clear liquid into her arm. "Last night's a tad fuzzy."

"Well, you're in the straightjacket because you got two broken ribs and a busted arm. You’re wholly incapable of following doctor’s orders given the choice so this is me not giving you one. I don't care what Carter or Finch or the Machine says, you are staying put until you convince me you won't run off at the Machine’s behest or do something equally stupid.”

Root shifted slightly as her chest twinged with a slightly-too-deep breath. “I suppose that's not unfair. To tell the truth, I’m not feeling up to much of anything,” punctuating her statement with a half-suppressed groan.

“You must be really feeling those ribs or I might think you’d been replaced by a pod person.” Shaw levered herself to her feet and retrieved a brown bottle from the cabinet behind her and shaking out two white pills. She tipped the Vicodin into her mouth and gave her a draught of water to wash it down.

“Where are you going?” Root asks when Shaw heads to the door. Shaw doesn't say anything, simply tugs her shoes and socks off and wraps one of the cloth tubes around the outside doorknob. Turning around, she locks them with a loud click.

“And here I thought I was due for punishment, not a reward.”

“Trust me,” Shaw growls, yanking her shirt over her head with a look that simultaneously dried her mouth from desire and made her swallow in apprehension, “this isn't going to be a reward.”

\ Baby On Board /

“So, I was thinking,” Shaw said as they sat at a red light, looking out the passenger side window.

“Should I be nervous?” Root asked without a trace of it, looking over at her from behind the steering wheel.

“Not particularly, I think. I was just thinking about the future. We’re going to need to live a cover; one of us needs a job, something with a tax return,” Shaw said as she leaned back into her seat, rubbing her stomach.

“Sounds like you have an idea already.”

“No, not really. Just thinking aloud, I guess.”

“Well, what would you think of going corporate?”

Shaw gave the notion a long thought before replying. “Depends. What’d you have in mind?”

“Pretty much the same thing we do now, except with an office.”

“Isn't our work schedule full enough as it is already?”

“Not always. You know how you hate downtime; this would be a good way to fill it. And we can pick and choose our clients.”

“Just the two of us?”

“I was thinking we'd hire on some of our former numbers, Zoe, that Leon guy, maybe Joss if she wouldn't mind moonlighting to handle the legal side when we need. We could get married and call it the Shaw Spy Service.”

“Wow. No. That’s a terrible name and a terrible idea.”

“Which part, getting into the private sector or getting hitched?”

Shaw’s mouth twisted in irritation. “You know which I mean. You’ve contributed half their DNA; you don’t have to worry about parental rights, visitation should the worst happen. We have a good thing going; why would you want to ruin it by changing things now?”

“Well, for one, only the dead don't change and two, I was joking. I would never force you into something you don't want, sweetie. Would you like being called the Preventers more? Oh, how about Private Spies?”

Shaw grunted, two crimson flowers blooming high on her cheeks. “That’s some better, but not by much. What about Finch?”

“I doubt he’ll approve but all we can do is tell him.”

Shaw grunted her agreement. “It’s not like he can ground us or bench us.”

Their conversation was put on hold as Root pulled into the parking lot for the Reeds Assisted Reproduction Clinic. They were left waiting for about ten minutes before one of the nurses brought them back to one of the exam rooms. Dr. Reeds was waiting for them, along with a tallish man with brown hair cropped into a crew cut.

“Dr, Meracht, I presume?” Root asked, stepping forward with one of her plastic smiles, offering her hand.

“That I am, Ms Root. And Ms Shaw. A pleasure to meet you both,” he replied with a more sincere smile, barely blinking at the handprint on her neck or the red stripes on her wrist, or the cast on her arm.

“It’s just Root and Shaw,” Shaw said as she hoisted herself up onto the bed.

“Very well, Shaw. Let’s see how you’re doing then.” Meracht ran through the usual battery of tests before giving her a full physical workup. “How have you been feeling?” he asked as he held her hands, pressing thumbs against her pulse points.

“Okay, mostly. Usual pregnancy soreness, heartburn, tenderness. Other than that…”

“That’s good to hear. It will take a while for your blood and urine tests to come back, but in the meantime I might be able to help with that. In addition to my medical qualifications, I'm an accredited and licensed therapeutic masseuse. If you like, I can give you one, show you some techniques that can help increase blood flow, reduce soreness, swelling, indigestion and all those other fun symptoms.”

“Absolutely,” Root replied instantly, throwing Shaw a leering grin.

Meracht gave Shaw a questioning look. She rolled her eyes. “Ignore her, she jumps any any chance for a little skin time, the letch. But sure, it’s been a while since I had a rub-down.”

Meracht brought them to another room, letting Shaw strip down in privacy. Shaw had to admit, he was pretty good, guiding Root’s oiled hands over her body, untying knots she hadn't realized she had, melting her bones until she was sure that she’d slip off the bed in a pile of formless goo.

Root didn't help matters, setting Shaw’s skin alight with eyes that smouldered. “Hey doc,” Shaw said, less than halfway through, “mind giving us a minute?”

“Just can't resist me,” Root asked, grinning.

“Shut the hell up and kiss me,” Shaw growled, grabbing Root’s hand and pressing it to her crotch.

 _“Absolutely,”_  Root replied, complying.

\ Baby On Board /

Finch sat and listened impassively as Root explained their plans. Shaw was slouched in the recliner that had magically appeared in the Library one day.

Finch’s lips twisted after Root finished but nodded after a moment. “I appreciate the heads-up and understand the need to establish a more public life. I can't truly approve of the Machine’s abilities being used in this manner,” Finch said evenly, though the thin white line betraying the true depth of his opinion. “But… I won't stand in your way either.”

“We don't see eye-to-eye on many things but I do respect you as both Her father and our leader. We figured we’d do you the courtesy of telling you upfront,” Root replied.

“I appreciate that,” he said after a moment. “Do you have a business plan yet?”

“Get an office, recruit some ex-numbers, shoot some bad guys,” Shaw said, standing up with a cup of yogurt retrieved from the minifridge.

Root rolled her eyes as Harold gave her a flat look. “We have kids on the way and we can’t exactly raise them in the shadows. They need to go to school and we need tax returns.”

Finch’s frown lessens. “I see your point, I suppose. And it would be unreasonable to expect you to change to a completely unrelated line of work to support yourselves.”

“Good, because if you think I'm going back to the makeup counter or anywhere near Macy’s, you got another thing coming Finch.” Shaw tossed the yogurt cup in the trash and went back to the fridge, this time pulling a strip of individually packaged string cheese sticks out.

“No, I’m not sure the retail industry could take your return to it. Still at least you are putting your skills to a worthwhile use. And… I suppose I wouldn't mind lending a hand, if it’s a life-or-death situation.”

“Thanks for the offer; we’ll certainly take you up on it if we need to.”

Finch inclined his head and spun to face the monitors. “In the meantime, we have a number.”

\ Baby On Board /

“Evening Shaw,” Zoe said as the pregnant Persian slid into the passenger seat, reclining it to make herself more comfortable. “What brings you down here?”

“Got a question for you; how do you feel about permanent employment?”

Zoe looked over at her. “Never really thought about it. Finch hiring?”

“Not exactly. With the kids on the way, we need a permanent cover so Root and I are going corporate. We're going to be doing the same stuff, basically and wanted to know if you'd like to work with us. And if you'd want to be one of the girl's godmother.”

You know they're girls? “

“They kinda have to, given how Root and I both lack that really important Y chromosome.”

“Root know you're asking me?”

“Root doesn't live in the real world. She thinks we will be around forever. I know better. Will you take care of the girls of the worst should happen to us?”

“What about John and Harold?”

“I know they would mean well, but can you imagine either of them being able to keep up with Root’s and my kids?”

Zoe laughed. “Point. Yeah, I’ll do it. Which one do I get?”

“You can roshambo Carter for your pick.”

“You already ask her?”

“No, but do you think she’d actually say no?”

“Probably not,” Zoe agreed.

Shaw smiled in relief. “Good. I got no idea who we’d ask if you’d said no. And what about the job?”

Zoe gave her a sidelong look before nodding. “I can't say I'm averse to a steady paycheck. As long as I can still take independent clients.”

“No problem. You wouldn't be an employee so much as an outside contractor.”

“And what would be my job title?”

“Special investigator, or something like that. We’re still working on it. We could use a favor though. The state requires at least three years investigative experience in order to apply for a PI’s licence. We got the experience, obviously, but we can't exactly prove it.”

Zoe hummed. “Yeah, sure, I can vouch for you guys. You got any more ‘employees’ yet?”

Shaw shook her head. “No, you’re the first we’ve approached. Though we are gonna ask a few ex-numbers that might be useful.”

“Anyone I’d know?”

“Unlikely. We have our eye on this money guy named Leon Tao and a couple doctors and a lawyer.”

“Well, let me know when you guys get an office or something. Anything I can help with right now?” Zoe gave her swelling abdomen a significant look and Shaw growled.

Shaw shook her head. “Not unless you can fast forward past the next five months. I can't tell you how ready I am to get back to shooting kneecaps. You wouldn't happen to be in need of a triggerman?”

Zoe’s smirk returned. “I bet. And hell no. Your wife is not someone whose bad side I want to be on. I like breathing a little too much.”

Shaw’s face twisted. “One, people need to stop calling Root my wife. Two, she’s not-”

“The boss of you?” Zoe interrupted.

“I was gonna say omniscient, but that too. What she doesn't know won't kill her.”

“But it might me.” Zoe hesitated, measure the frustration showing on Shaw’s face. “Fine. I’m not doing anything much anyways. Just… don’t get hurt or Root really will kill me.”

“Please,” Shaw scoffed, “how many people do you know who’d hit a pregnant woman?”

“You’d probably find the one and then I’d have to leave the country.”

Shaw just rolled her eyes and pulled an energy bar out of her pocket and tore the wrapper off, shoving the whole thing into her mouth. “Not a word,” Shaw said around her mouthful of granola. “I’m pregnant with twins. I’m always hungry.”

“What, you mean you weren't before?” Zoe asked with an innocent tone.  Shaw just glared at her and pulled a bag of trail mix out a decent sized purse Shaw had somehow kept out of sight..

“I was gonna share, but I don't think I want to now.”

Shaw had eaten about a third of the bag, picking around the almonds when Zoe opened her door and stepped out. Shaw hurried to lever herself out of Zoe’s car (which was far too low to the ground for reason) and catch up.

Shaw hovered just behind Zoe while they waited for their target to approach. “Jules Macallan?”

“Yeah? Who‘re you?” the man asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Zoe Morgan,” and Macallan’s eyes widened in recognition. “Your boss hired me to find how who’s been blackmailing her over her extracurricular activities. That stops tonight.”

“As if. I have her right where I want her, and there is zero chance I’m giving you anything.” Jules made to brush past Zoe, but Shaw snagged his hand, twisting and driving him to his knees in one smooth motion.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady asshole. You have one chance to do what Zoe was paid to get you to do. You don't, I hurt you. Which is it going to be?”

Macallan growled and tried to stand, but Shaw simply twisted a little more and he dropped back down. “I was hoping you’d be difficult. Now I get to have a bit of fun. “ Releasing his hand, she wait for him to get to his feet before kicking him in the back of the knee, driving hers into his chin. He dropped like a rock. Rolling him over with a foot Shaw grinned. “Now, I know my girth doesn't really make me very intimidating, but I can keep at this all day. Want to keep going?”

He turned his head to spit blood and glared up at the two women. “I wouldn't test her if I were you,” Zoe added. “She normally hits people for a living and she hasn’t been able to much of that lately for obvious reasons. It’s left her pretty short tempered, if you can't tell.”

“Fine,” he spat after Shaw took an aggressive step over him. Opening his briefcase he threw a thumbdrive at Zoe.

“No online backups?”

“So I can get hacked and my blackmail stolen? No, that’s the only copy.”

“Good. Let this be a lesson to you Jules.” Zoe bounced the drive in her palm a couple times before tucking it away in her purse. “Can I give you a ride anywhere?” she asked when they got back to her car.

“Nah, there’s a barbecue joint around the corner I’m gonna get dinner from for Root and me. She’ll probably pick me up after.”

“She does have an uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time,” Zoe agreed.

“I’ll let you know when we need that reference. She patted the roof of Zoe’s car as she crossed the street. Sure enough, Root was waiting for her at the curb leaning against the hood of her car. “Hey,” Shaw said by way of greeting, pecking her on the lips and hooking a finger through the keyring, pulling them out of Root’s loosened grasp. Root just gave her an amused smirk and walked around to the passenger’s side.

“So how did Zoe’s job go?” Root asked as Shaw put the car into drive.

“You have Her spying on me?”

“I wouldn’t call it spying, more like keeping a friendly eye on my babymomma.”

Shaw made a face. “Never call me your ‘babymomma’ ever again.”

“But it’s-”

“Never. Again. Got it?” Shaw growled.

“Okay, Sameen,” Root replied, smirking as she rubbed a thumb over the hand controlling the stick of the manual transmission.

\ Baby On Board /

“Morning Leon,” Shaw said by way greeting, carefully lowering herself into an empty rolling chair at Leon’s desk.

Leon nearly fell out of his chair in surprise. “Morning, ah, Shaw. What can I do for you?”

“Relax, Leon. I'm not here to hurt you or protect you, quite the opposite. I’m here to offer you a job.”

“A job, really? Finchy-boy didn't seem too keen on the idea when I suggested it.”

“You won't be working for Finch. My... partner and I are starting our own business and we could use a forensic accountant with questionable morals.”

“I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

Shaw grinned. “As someone who used to break the law for a living, take it as a compliment.”

“And what would I be doing for you?” Leon replied, still clearly suspicious of Shaw’s offer.

“Same stuff you did for Finch. Tracking money, finding embezzlers, cheaters, thieves. Helping people.”

“Helping people doesn't pay the rent.”

“We can double your pay.”

Leon frowned. “You don't know how much I make.”

“Doesn't matter, we can still double it.”

“You got an office?”

“We’re working on that, but it should be soon.”

Silence fell between them and Shaw waited for Leon to ask the question he clearly wanted to ask. “So I gotta ask, what’s going on with that?” he asked with a circling gesture at her swollen belly.

“Exactly what it looks like; I got knocked up.”

“So, uh, not to be rude, but...”

“Who has the balls to stick it to me?”

“I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but, uh, yeah, sorta.”

“Remember that hacker that paid that other guy you tracked back in 2012? It’s her.”

“That seems…”

“Unlikely?” Shaw interrupted. “Yeah, can't argue with you there. She’s, well, special.”

“Must be to, uh…”

“Stick it to me?” Shaw asked, with a small grin. It was satisfying to know, (probably more than it should be) that even four months pregnant, Leon was still scared shitless of her. The day she lost the ability to put the fear of God (or more accurately, herself) in a weasel like Leon Tao was the day she hung up her guns.

Leon made a face. “I’ll take your offer under advisement,” he replied after a moment. “How should I contact you?”

“We’ll know if you decide to accept. You’ll hear from us then.”

“You guys are really weird, you know that?”

That actually did make her smile and made a little blood drain from Leon’s face. “Buddy, you got no idea.”

\ Baby On Board /

The Law Offices of Sanchez and Gutierrez were located in the second floor of a brownstone in the Bronx. The practice was small, consisting of a cramped lobby, conference room and three offices according to the blueprints that She had provided. The secretary was friendly as was her job and asked Root to sit and wait for Andrea. She wasn't left to wait long, the woman in question emerging ten minutes later and bringing Root to her office.

“Good morning Ms…” Andrea greeted as she seated herself behind her desk.

“Please just call me Root,” Root said with a matching smile.

“Very well, Ms. Root, what can I do for you today?” Andrea asked, eyeing her cast.

“Actually, it’s not what you can do for me, it’s what I can do for you. I’m here to offer you a job.”

The lawyer looked surprised. “Thanks, but I already have a job.”

“And you don't have to quit it,” Root said without hesitating a beat. “If you come to work at Shaw Spy Services I can guarantee every single one of your clients will be Terrance King, that is to say someone who is in a very bad position who could use your legal expertise.”

“Shaw Spy Services?” Andrea asked, leaning back and cocking an eyebrow.

“My partner shot me down on Private Spies. You can set your own salary, hours. You’ll have your own office and have access to several specialists in a variety of fields to assist with your cases.”

“You’re giving me a pretty hard sell here.”

“We really want you to come work with us. We’ve done our homework. You’re good at what you do, you have a strong moral code and most importantly you know how to keep a secret. We know you were saved by the Man in the Suit and we know you’ve never spoken to anyone about it.”

“How do you know that?” Andrea asked sharply, sitting up.

“Because we work with him,” Root said bluntly.

That caught her by surprise. “You work with him?”

“And so would you, if you wanted to.”

“Why isn't he here today?”

“He’s more of a… part time contractor. He’s not a full-time employee like you’d be.”

The lawyer relaxed back into her chair and struck a thinking expression. “We wouldn't have a problem with hiring you as our in-house counsel if you would prefer that. Or we could keep you on a retainer, however you’d prefer to do things,” Root added.

“Who’s this partner you keep mentioning?” Gutierrez asked instead of addressing Root’s previous comment.

“The ‘Shaw’ of ‘Shaw Spy Services.’ She works with the Man in the Suit as well.”

“And which one of you would I be working for?”

“Both of us; we’re going to be running it together.”

“And I can still work here?”

Root nodded. “Not all of our clients will need legal assistance, and should you come across someone here who needs our style of help, we would consider taking them on.”

Andrea let out a short breathy laugh. “Well, consider me sold. When do I start?”

“We’re still finding talent at the moment and don't have an office, but we should have that fixed in a week or so.” Root fished a card out of a pocket, sliding it across the desk. “This is my number, should you need to contact me before then.”

\ Baby On Board /

“Sweetie, I’ve found the one,” Root said over the phone ten days later. Root didn't wait for Shaw’s response, activating the video call function and spinning in place. It was a moderately sized penthouse office consisting of a waiting area, several offices and a conference room.

 _“Not bad,”_ Shaw allowed when Root finished giving her the tour.

“What kind of business were you thinking of starting?” the realtor asked. She was older, with nice red bob that complemented the grey ladies suit and pumps.

“Private security, private investigation,” Root replied absently, handing her a card as she looked around.

“I see. And do you have a partner?” Root turned the phone to face her. “I meant, someone to take care of the security aspect.” She gave Root’s broken arm a significant look.

 _“Hey, I handle the security just frickin’ fine, lady,”_ Shaw shot back hotly.

“Or at least she will, in a couple months,” Root couldn’t resist adding as Shaw swore and fumbled the phone as she tried to multi-task, showing her motherly state as well as revealing she was in the Library.

“And what is your relationship?”

“She’s bearing my children,” Root replied with a cheek-splitting smile and saccharine tone. The realtor hesitated slightly at that.

 _“Is that a problem?”_ Shaw asked acerbically from the phone.

“No, it’s just… Hell’s Kitchen isn’t the safest part of town.”

 _“I used to be a Marine and then killed terrorists for a living,”_ Shaw shot back shortly, irritation clearly flaring. _“She… has similarly applicable skills. Anyone who tries to mug us is in for a world of hurt.”_

“Very well. Do you need some time to decide or...?”

Root flipped the phone around and Shaw gave her a shrug. “We’ll take it,” Root told the realtor.

The realtor pulled some paperwork out of her purse and handed it to Root. “Aright, please fill these forms out and return them to my office as soon as you can.”

Root nodded. “Alright, I’m gonna go by the Licensing Services office as well to file the company papers.”

_“Hold on, I thought we agreed that I’d do that because whoever files has to get fingerprinted.”_

“Don't worry sweetie, She’ll delete the records as soon as I’m done. And She can just swap them out later.”

Shaw growled, stopping whatever else she had been doing to glare at the phone screen. _“I still don't like it. It’s a risk.”_

“Its a negligible one. There aren't gonna be any cops there even if She hadn’t spent the last two weeks thoroughly sanitizing my record.”

_“Fine, do whatever you want. You get arrested though, I’m blowing something up to break you out.”_

“You say the sweetest things.”

\ Baby On Board /

Root noticed that Shaw was rubbing her stomach. She was standing in the middle of the room, giving orders to the two hired strongarms arrange the furniture the Machine had ordered for them. Root noticed Shaw doing that more and more as her pregnancy progressed. The rubbing was an instinctive thing that both settled the infants and calmed her, despite whatever protests Shaw made that she was always calm.

Shaw had also acquired a bit of a waddle as her belly expanded and hips widened that did terrible things to her insides.

“Hey Mom,” Root whispered in Shaw’s ear, embracing her from behind and looking to where the triple-s-eye logo would hang. As with most things, Shaw had caved on the name and now there was a sign resting on the floor that was waiting to be hoisted into place.

“Guess I’m gonna have to get used to that. Dad.”

Root let her go and cocked an eyebrow as she moved so she could see Shaw’s face proper, touching their foreheads together. “Dad?”

“Well, we both can't be Mom, that’d just be confusing. And as I’m the one that’s popping the brats out, I’m obviously the mom.”

Root just smirked. “If you insist, sweetie.”

“Or you can be Mother,” Shaw said as she finally snaked her arms around Root’s waist.

“Why am I Mother?”

“Because you are the old boring one, while I'm the youthful fun one.”

“Did you just call me old?” Root asked carefully.

“Yeah,” Shaw said carelessly. “But you can't do anything ‘coz I’m preggers.”

“I wouldn't be so sure about that. I am quite the problem solver when I need to be.”

Shaw wasn't given the chance to reply because someone interrupted with a nervous cough. “Ah, excuse me, but is this Shaw Spy Services?”

The pair turned around to find a middle-aged, balding redheaded man standing in what would be their lobby. “We’re not open yet,” Shaw informed him, stepping out of Root’s arms.

“My name’s Edward Shultz. I was told to come here by Zoe Morgan. She said that you’re the only ones who can save my life.”


	5. Month the Fifth - Investigation

The pair exchanged a glance before Root tipped her head back to what was going to be the conference room. It was pretty bare, like the rest of their office, containing nothing more than a pressure board table and a pair of folding chairs. Root let Shaw take the chair behind the table while she leaned carefully against the other side. “So Mr. Schultz, how do you know Zoe?”

“It's more I know of her. She has a reputation for problem solving, and I have one hell of a problem. I’m an FBI analyst with the Victims Identification Project. You remember the daughter of the Russian ambassador that went missing back in 2006, Elena Sorokin? I’m pretty sure I found her remains and now I think someone’s trying to kill me.”

“Why do you think someone’s trying to kill you?” Shaw asked.

“I’ve had three accidents in the last two weeks,” he explained, gesturing to the gauze pad on his temple. “The brakes on my car failed, making me wreck my car, my apartment building was fumigated one night and my building super forgot to tell me and finally, peanuts somehow found their way into my Chinese when the chef there knows me and my allergy.

“And your bosses don't believe that these were attempts on your life?”

“They don't believe I’ve found her remains, they sure don't believe someone’s trying to kill me over them.”

“Any idea who might be trying to kill you?” Root asked.

“Whoever killed Miss Sorokin I would assume, but I got no real idea.”

“Well, that’s something we can figure out later. Right now we should get you somewhere safe.”

“So you’ll take my case?”

“Zoe wouldn't have sent you to us if she didn't believe you were in danger and that’s good enough for us.”

Schultz sighed and Shaw looked away at the expression of relief that came over his features. “Sweetie, you want to take him over to the 8th while I get started on the case?”

Shaw levered herself out of her chair and made for the door. It wasn't until they were both in the car until the analyst got enough nerve to speak.“How far along are you?“

“Seventeen weeks,” Shaw replied after a long moment. “Twins,” she added after another, surprising herself.

“Ah.”

“‘Ah?’ What do you mean by ‘ah?’” Shaw asked with a sharp look and tone.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “It’s just I have younger twin brothers.”

“And let me guess, they were troublemakers, so you assume mine will be too.”

“I didn't say that,” he said defensively.

“But you were thinking it. Do me a favor and keep your opinions to yourself, yeah?”

“How do you know you can trust these cops?” Schultz asked as they pulled up to the 8th. “Whoever’s trying to kill me has access to FBI databases and files, contacts too, I'm sure.”

“Carter’s an old friend, we’ve saved each other’s lives more than a few times. Right now the 8th is one of the safest places in the city for you. Trust me, she won't let anyone get to you without a fight.”

He didn't reply, following obediently into the police precinct. Neither Reese nor Fusco were at their desks so she headed directly to Carter’s office, letting herself in without knocking.

“Hey Carter. Need you to keep an eye on this guy for us for a little bit. Seems he’s stumbled on something someone doesn't want him talking about.”

“Something wrong with the safehouse?”

“Root’s busy trying to figure out who wants him dead, you got Reese and Fusco somewhere in Red Hook and I’m not in a babysitting mood.”

Carter rolled her eyes and put her head out of her office, calling for an Officer Thompson to escort Schultz to an interrogation room. “Was there something else?” Carter asked when she sat behind her desk again.

“Actually yeah. How do you feel about being a godmother?”

“I’d be happy to,” Carter said with a smile.

“Cool. I asked Zoe too, so you can wrestle her for which one you get.”

“Which one I get?”

“Oh, right, guess we forgot to tell you, but we’re having twins.”

“Wow, I’m sorry. Pregnant with one was bad enough, don't even want to imagine what you’re going through with two.”

Shaw rolled her eyes and got to her feet. “Have one of the boys drop the client off at the safehouse this evening. Should have a better handle on the sitch by then.”

“Sure thing. Any idea how long this might take to resolve?”

“No idea. Guy thinks he found that Russian diplomat’s kid that went missing way back when.”

“Sounds like that could get messy. Let me know if I can help.”

Shaw nodded and turned to the door. Tapping her earwig once she was outside, Shaw waited for Root to pick up before she asked, “got anything yet?” without preamble.

“I think so. I hacked the field office here and am looking at his files. He makes a pretty compelling case for the body being Elena’s.”

“Too good a case?”

“No, just seems like good detective work to me, but his bosses do seem suspiciously adamant it’s not her.”

“Anyone in particular we should ask why?”

“His boss, Alex Heigl, seems like a good place to start.”

“Meet you at the field office?”

“I’ll need to stop by the Library for credentials, so see you  in an hour?”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll call Zoe, see if she has anything to add.”

The fixer picked up on the first ring. _“Hey, my guy make it to your office?”_

“Schultz, the FBI guy? Yeah. He filled us in on his sitch, which wasn't much. Root hacked the FBI and looked at his stuff but is there anything you can add?”

_“I checked and his boss, Alex Heigl, put him on medical leave while he recovered from his accidents. A note has also been made on his record saying he’s gonna have to talk to a shrink when he gets back.”_

Shaw grunted. “Well, at least he’s telling the truth then. Not surprised the FBI is too thick to see it.”

 _“He’s a desk jockey twice passed over for promotion with a body of dubious origins,”_ Zoe said in agreement. _“Nobody’s gonna be rushing to believe much he says.”_

“Yeah, anyways I dropped him off with Carter and we’re going to the field office to question his boss.”

_“Good. Let me know if you need anything else.”_

“Will do.” Hanging up, she began searching for details on the Sorokin disappearance on her phone at red lights as she made her way downtown. Unfortunately the case was a hotly debated subject, even over a decade later.  Conspiracy theories abounded, suggesting that the FBI, the CIA, the KGB had killed her, the DIA, NCAA, NASA had kidnapped her, brainwashed her, turned her into a sleeper agent. The variety of organizations that had done something to her, which was limited to those with acronyms was only matched by the things said organizations had done to her.

The coverage of her initial disappearance was thorough, just about every news publication and station worth its paper or airwaves contributing to the story. Much of it was dross, rehashing the same few facts over and over.

Picking an article from the New Yorker which seemed to have less conjecture than most, she leaned back to read it.

_Russian Admiral’s, Ambassador’s Daughter Vanished_

_Foul Play Suspected_

_Sunday, August 20, 2006_

_Elena Sorokin, aged 24, has been reported missing by the Russian Embassy. She was last seen attending a late-night matinee when her protective detail lost track of her.  A graduate of the Institute of State and Law, Ms. Sorokin was an acknowledged asset to her father and the architect of recently repaired relations between Russia and the United States._

_Considered by most as an unofficial spokeswoman for the Embassy, she frequently filled in for her father at social engagements. Police have few suspects as Ms Sorokin is highly regarded among the diplomatic community as a dealmaker and facilitator._

_Last seen in a brocaded, emerald blouse and denim jeans, anyone who has information is urged to call the Missing Persons Squad at 212-555-7781._

There was a photograph with the article, from social event given the dress she was wearing. She was pretty as one might expect, dark wavy hair swept into an updo with deep blue eyes and sharp features.

Further examination of the news coverage revealed little more, the FBI keeping a tight lid on the case for obvious reasons.

Shaw was startled out of her study by a tap on her window. Root was leaning over, holding up a pair of laminated cards on lanyards declaring they were from the New York Post.

“How long were you waiting?” Root asked.

“Not that long. How are we getting in? Shaw asked as she hung her ID around her neck.

“I fiddled with Heigl’s calendar while I was in their systems so we have a meeting with him in fifteen minutes.”

“Find anything interesting about him while you were poking around?”

“No, but then again you don't get to be Assistant Director in Charge by hanging your skeletons on the coatrack.”

“True, but that means we got no idea if this Heigl is even the man we need to be talking to.”

“Even if he’s not, he’ll point us in the right direction.“

Shaw nodded to give Root the point and followed her into the lobby. True to her word, their badges got them past security and waiting on the thirteenth floor for Assistant Director In Charge Heigl.

He didn't leave them waiting long, an agent bringing them to his office only a few minutes after they arrived.

Shaw felt more than heard the sharp inhalation of her partner when they stepped into the corner office.

“Ms. Roche, Ms. Daniels, I’d say it’s pleasure to meet you but that would imply I had known about this meeting for more than ten minutes.”

“This meeting was cleared by your office,” Shaw said after a moment when Root didn't reply.

“And that seems to be the case, otherwise you wouldn't be here at all. Now, I have other things to be doing today so if you wouldn't mind getting to why you’re here?”

“Sure. Why have you shut down the investigation into Elena Sorokin’s disappearance?”

“You’ve been talking to Ed Schultz?” Heigl asked in a tone that said he already knew the answer.

“You know we can't reveal our source.”

“Doesn't matter. He’s the only person who could have put you on this ‘story.’ Why else would you come down to grill me about an on-his-way-out-the-door analyst’s unsubstantiated, crackpot theories on a thirteen-year-old murder? I think the Post need to take a closer eye on who’s writing for it if this is the kind garbage you’re working on. Now, I have real police work to supervise, so you can see yourselves out.” He got up out of his chair and started to pull the door open.

Root, who had until this point had been almost completely unresponsive, rose to her feet and dropped her hand over Heigl’s, slamming the door shut. Root had a look in her eye that Shaw knew well, that she was in God Mode and was about to destroy someone utterly. “We absolutely will, but not until you’ve answered our questions.”

“They will be hard to ask once you’ve been arrested for assaulting an agent,” he replied with a pointed look at the hand on his.

“Then you would have some awkward questions to answer about the five-point-two million dollars sitting in the Cayman’s you’ve been growing.”

Heigl eyes darted between the two of them before he let his hand drop from the doorknob and returned to his desk. “I know who killed the Russian girl.”

“And so do I. Ronald Henry Hurst, ex-Ranger, sniper with fourteen confirmed kills. Recruited by the CIA into the Special Activities Division and tasked with eliminating the Russian ambassador’s daughter after she started having second thoughts about working as a double agent for us.” Shaw watched carefully as Root rose to her feet and slowly stalked around the ADIC’s desk, a dangerous look she hadn’t seen in some time on her partner’s face. “Killing a foreign national on U.S. soil is one thing, killing an FBI agent to cover up said murder is an entirely different beast. So you were read in on the situation and told to make it go away. Except you’re really bad at the whole murder-disguised-as-an-accident thing. Surprising, really, given your day job. But then you got really unlucky and he came to us, quite possibly the two people best equipped to uncover your betrayal. A couple years ago I would've shown you how to disguise a murder properly by demonstration, but now I think I’m simply going to expose you for the incompetent, duplicitous sleaze you are. Unless you can give me an excellent reason not to.”

To his credit, Heigl held his ground, just barely leaning away as Root loomed over him with her hands on his armrests. “You’re crazy if you think that you can threaten an Assistant Director In Charge with baseless, unprovable conspiracy theories. I’m of half a mind to put you in handcuffs right now, whether or not you are journalists.”

“Go ahead; who do you think John Q Public is going to side with in that court case?”

Heigl’s eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips into a thin line. “I assume you have a request to go with your blackmail?”

“And it's a real simple one; stop trying to kill Edward. We'll make sure he drops the case and keep a lid on it.”

“How do I know you will keep your word?”

“You don't,” Root replied lightly. “But we’re not the ones who betrayed someone so you’re just gonna trust us.” Root shoved herself upright and a step back. She was halfway to the door by the time Shaw managed to get to her feet.

“What the hell was all that about?” Shaw demanded in a low voice once they were out of the building. “Root,” Shaw said, grabbing the other woman’s elbow and jerking her to a halt when she didn't respond. “What’s wrong?”

“Alex Heigl is my father,” She said after a moment, driving everything Shaw was about to say out of her head.

“What?” Shaw sputtered after a second.

“My mother showed me pictures of him when I was a kid. She called him Samuel Burke, but Alex Heigl is my dad. I didn't bother to check for a picture when I was in the FBI servers, which is why I didn't recognize him until we were face-to-face.”

They walked side-by-side in silence for three blocks before Shaw spoke again. “So what are you gonna do?”

“If you’d asked me that five years ago that would've been a real simple answer. Now…”

“You don't know whether to kill him, frame him, leave him alone or talk to him?”

“Basically. Though that last one is really far down the list.”

“You don't want to let your dad know you exist?”

“He knows I exist. Or at least knew. He sent my mom money every month until she died.”

As usual, Shaw didn't know what to say to that. Even now, after four years together, she still lacked the words to convey the churn of her gut. Her parents had been good people, bound together in a way that Shaw doubted she could ever feel. She’d seen shitty parents sure, but the few experiences she’d had hardly gave her any idea what to say. She was sorry that her dad sucked, but that seemed like such a trite and insufficient thing to say.

“She wrote him a letter right before she died. Said that he was gonna come for me, take care of me. I waited a month. He sent two thousand dollars instead.”

“I hate it when you say shit like that; it makes me feel like crap when I don't know what to say back.”

Root shook her head. “It’s fine, sweetie. I dealt with the fact that my dad’s a shitbag a long time ago.”

“No, Root, it’s not fine. This is bothering you, even if you won't admit it.”

“Sweetie-”

“Seriously, Root, if you ‘sweetie’ me one more time…”

“What do you want me to say, Sameen? That I want to ruin his life, make him regret ever hearing of the town of Bishop, ever setting eyes on my mom?”

“If that’s what you’re thinking, yeah. I'm not Finch or Reese, Root, I'm your partner. You aren't gonna scare me off by sharing your feelings, I thought you would know that by now.” Shaw hesitated looking down before continuing. “I want to know what you’re feeling. This is the cr- stuff I signed up for when I agreed to this,” Shaw said, gesturing at her belly. “It helps no one when you keep your shit bottled up.”

“I guess I’m still figuring how how to deal with it.” Root sighed. “I just want to go home.”

“Sure,” Shaw agreed, tossing Root the keys as she pulled out her phone. “Hey Carter,” she said when the line connected.

_“Hey Shaw. How’s your end of things coming? Your client is getting a bit antsy for some kind of news.”_

“Handled, more or less. You can tell him he was right about the body but has to drop his investigation.”

_“He’s gonna want a reason why. What do I tell him?”_

“She wasn't killed for nothing. He's better off leaving this alone."

_"Right, because he seems the type to just drop the investigation that's gotten him into so much trouble?"_

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. She hadn't gotten much sleep in the last week,  twelve hours tops in the last four or five days and it left her patience with such bullheaded stupidity dangerously short. "Fine," She said tightly. "The girl was a spy. She traded secrets then started having second thoughts and apparently got stupid and shared those thoughts with the wrong person. If he wants to keep pushing, more power to him, but we did our job and got the hitmen off his ass."

 _"I'll pass it along,"_ Carter said, voice dry as the Sahara. _"You guys owe me."_

"Sure thing Carter. Anything else needs to wait til morning though."

_"Sure. Is something wrong?"_

Shaw shot a look to her left where Root was behind the wheel. "You're gonna have to let me get back to you on that."

_"Alright, but you gotta promise me you'll call if you need anything."_

"You'll be number one," Shaw agreed, ending the call.

"Pull over here," Shaw said as she slipped her phone into a pocket.

"Can we wait until we get home before we talk?"

"Looking for food, not conversation. The brats want Indian."

Root cast a look around and slid the car smoothly into a parking space and followed as Shaw backtracked half a block to the restaurant she'd spotted.

It was still early for dinner, just after five, so the place was mostly empty, only two of the six tables occupied. Shaw scanned the menu over the register before deciding to just take everything on the lefthand board.

Before Root she would've simply stacked the boxes on the little round table in her loft, or spread them around her on the bed. Now she pulled plates down from the cabinet, silverware from the drawer. Before, there few things she relished more than being able to enjoy a good meal uninterrupted. She dropped her utensils halfway through herself. "Either eat or talk," Shaw ordered. "Don't check out on me." Shaw sighed when Root brought a spoonful of curry to her mouth. It was probably the first time that she wished Root would talk more, not less. She'd take anything at this point, even one of her completely ridiculously obtuse come-ons.

Getting up, she walked over to the short table by the windows and grabbed Root's laptop. Putting it on the table next to Root's plate, she said, "steal his money, mess with his drivers license, frame him for something, whatever you want. Whatever will let you get him off your mind."

"I think I know what will," Root replied, lifting the lid.


	6. Month the Sixth - Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one went weird places

As was happening increasingly often, Sameen Shaw woke up by slow degrees, ensconced in her bed with the sun well above the horizon. The green digits of the digital clock on her nightstand read 10:18 so she decided that she should get up long enough to get breakfast at least.

It must have been a slow day for the numbers because Root was seated at the bar, gaze fixated on a card in her hands. Shaw beelined for the kitchenette, popping the oven open to discover that yes, there was food being kept warm in it.

Sameen hoisted herself onto the stool next to Root and devoured three of her half-dozen eggs before she glanced over at her still-silent partner. “Hey there, what’s got you so absorbed this morning?”

Root laid the card flat on the counter and slid it over with two fingers. It was heavy cardstock with floral, embossed script.

_Samantha Groves, you are officially invited to the Bishop High School Class of 1999 Twentieth Anniversary Reunion._

Shaw stopped reading there, closing the card and reinforcing the crease with a nail. “I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. I’m a public person again,” Root said as she rubbed her temples.

“Do you wanna go?” Shaw asked when Root hadn't said anything by the time she’d finished her breakfast.

Root turned to give her a surprised look. “Why in the world would I ever want to return to that miserable place?”

“I’d think you’d relish the chance to rub your success in the faces of the people who made your life shit.”

“My success?” Root asked, seemingly genuinely confused.

“Sure, you’re a highly-skilled, wealthy hacker, owner of a successful private investigation business, a pair of twins with the most stunningly, breathtakingly, jaw-droppingly gorgeous woman who ever lived on the way?”

Root arched an eyebrow as she shot Sameen a look. “You sure you aren't overselling yourself a bit there sweetie?”

“I don't know, am I?”

“No, I suppose not,” Root said after a deliberately drawn out moment of consideration. Sameen smirked, sliding off her stool to clean her plate.

“You seem in good spirits this morning,” Root commented when she’d finished with her plate, handing it to Shaw.

Shaw shrugged. “What can I say, hormones have me up. But I was serious. The city can survive without us for a long weekend. Plus Fourth of July in Texas should be fun enough to counter whatever bullshit your former classmates try.”

“Us Texans do love our explosives. There was a bit of a crater melted in the asphalt of the cul de sac by Hanna’s house from holiday celebrations.”

Shaw grinned. “See, Bishop can't be all bad.”

“Why do you want to go?”

Shaw paused for a moment, thinking her answer over. “I’d kinda like to see where you came from. I mean, I know where, intellectually, but it’d be… nice to see it for myself. To see where the soon-to-be father of my children grew up.”

Root cocked her head and considered her for a second. “Alright. But you gotta do something for me too.”

“I’m not giving you a blind yes,” Sameen replied as flatly as she could when Root didn’t say anything more.

“It’s not anything crazy, I promise. I just want to meet your mom.”

“Really, you want to meet my mom?”

“You want to know about my past, I want to know about yours.”

“You read my file, hell you probably have it memorized. Why do you want to meet my mom?”

“Is there a reason you don’t want me to meet her?” Root shot back.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Other than the fact that you’re you and she thinks I’ve been dead for six years? Not to mention that she’s been drawing my death benefit checks… Shit.”

“Shit what?” Root asked when Shaw frowned, showing little indication of continuing her thought.

“She’s been drawing my death benefit checks,” Shaw repeated slowly. “You know, the ones with money for her because I died?”

“And?” Root asked, still not connecting the dots.

“Well, thanks to you I have a business named after me, which means that the ISA won’t be the only part of the government that knows I’m still kicking soon. The IRS is almost as good as the ISA at getting their man and twice as vindictive. Tell you what, I’ll introduce you but you gotta handle whatever fallout comes her way.”

“Deal,” Root snapped back with a wide grin. “I’ll RSVP and get the plane tickets. You call Finch and Zoe and let them know we’ll be out of town.”

Finch was understanding, too much so in her opinion and Zoe agreed to watch the office in case they got a walk-in.

“We have a flight out Thursday,” Root said, watching from the door as Shaw packed two suitcases. “The RSVP includes a room at one of the no-tells, so you might want to pack some cream. Bed bugs, you know. It’s a small town,” Root said by way of explanation, “barely three thousand people. Biggest event of the year is the start of hunting season.”

“Guess that shouldn't be a surprise,” Shaw said, mouth twisting in disgust.

“It’s also very conservative and very, very Republican. So try not to be too offended when they don't immediately welcome you into the fold.”

“Because I’m brown and bi?”

“Don't forget pregnant and unmarried. You hit the conservative phobia trifecta.”

“Joy,” Sameen replied flatly, turning away from the bureau and transferring the armful of neatly folded garments to the suitcase. Shaw was not what anyone would call a materialistic individual, so the two suitcases on the bed seemed unusual, if not downright suspicious. Sure enough, when Root unzipped one, most of the space was occupied by a pair of broken-down rifles, an SMG and a trio of pistols.

“I know it’s Texas, sweetie, but I don't think you’re gonna need the heavy artillery.”

“You know what they say, better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. What do you really think our chances are that we’ll manage to make it the whole three days without shit going down?”

“Point, but it’s Bishop not Baghdad. I just hope you’re not too disappointed if you don't get the chance to use both your G36 and Stealth Recon.”

“And what’s Bishop’s surveillance situation?” Shaw nodded when Root didn't answer. “That’s what I thought. I’m bringing my guns,” she announced, zipping her suitcase shut with a sharp motion.

\- Baby on Board -

Their Thursday afternoon flight passed uneventfully, the Machine ensuring that Shaw’s firearm-laden bags passed through security without comment. The girl behind the desk of the car rental kiosk in Corpus Christi eyed her as did the motel clerk in Bishop when they checked into their room, but neither of them made any untoward comments. It was only eight p.m. local but Shaw was exhausted anyways; flying civilian-commercial always frayed her nerves, though her current condition had gotten her through airport security with considerably less scrutiny than usual.

She woke up first for a change the next morning, Root pressed firmly against her back in the slightly lumpy double bed. One hand drifted down from where it had been tucked under her pillow and lightly stroked the hand that rested against her stomach, her thumb buffing a black-painted fingernail.

She waited as long as she could but the gnawing in her growling gut eventually became unbearable. “How long have you been awake?” Sameen demanded when she rolled over and found her partner’s eyes lidded but open.

“Since the first time your stomach growled,” Root replied with a lazy smile.

Shaw scowled, throwing the single sheet covering them off and swung her legs out. “Are you kidding me? That was almost fifteen minutes ago! You better have somewhere good to go for breakfast to make it up to me.”

“She says there’s an IHOP a couple blocks over.”

“Works for me,” Shaw replied, pulling a T-shirt out of her already-opened suitcase and unzipping Root’s. “Hurry up and get dressed. I’m starving.”

“Is that what Shaw means?” Root asked, propping herself up on her elbows but scrambled out of bed when Shaw snapped the stock of her H&K G36C into place.

They were in the car eight minutes later, Root parking their rental fourteen minutes after leaving the motel. Ignoring the host’s question-order to follow him, Shaw slid into the booth nearest the door to the kitchen. The IHOP was barely half-full so he just handed them their menus and returned to his post. Shaw didn't even open hers, ordering orange juice, two pancakes, two waffles, four sausage links, two eggs poached and two over easy, four strips of bacon and a double order of hashbrowns with cheese and chunked ham almost before Megan, their waitress, could introduce herself. “And just bring the stuff out as it’s cooked, don't wait to serve it to me all at once.”

Megan nodded and scurried back to the kitchen after Root ordered coffee, a pancake and a scrambled egg. Root watched with doe eyes as Sameen tore into her meal, generally passing Megan an empty plate as she returned with a new one.

“If you don't mind my asking, are you guys new in town?” Megan asked halfway through their breakfast.

“Sort of. Bishop High, class of ‘99.”

“Oh. That’s good I guess.”

“How come?” Shaw asked around a mouthful of syrup-drenched waffle.

“It’s just… you two are obviously together and, well… this isn’t exactly the center of modern thinking. Probably a good thing you aren't here for long.”

Shaw snorted. “I’ll bet.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your visit here anyways,” Megan said with a bit of a smile and left for Shaw’s next course.

By the time they left the IHOP, the temperature was closer to ninety than eighty and the sun was only halfway to its zenith. Shaw had spent her fair share of time in desert climes so the heat didn't bother her much, though the aircon in the car wasn’t unwelcome.

According to the program posted online, Friday was for check ins, the first event a mixer at a nearby bar that didn't start for another four hours.

“What do we do until then?” Shaw asked when she had relayed that information to Root.

“Bishop isn't big on tourist attractions.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t come for the tourist traps. I’m sure you have a few interesting things to show me though.”

“I really don’t. The most interesting thing about Bishop would be, town hall I guess. Oldest building in the town.”

“Not the kind of landmark I came to see. I hear the library is pretty special.”

“Sweetie-”

“I’d really like to see the library,” Sameen insisted.

“Fine,” Root said after a long moment, caving. Being a one-school town, the library wasn't far, less than a dozen blocks from the IHOP. It was far from cheery, a square, drab spackled-brick structure with bland eggshell walls inside and grey industrial carpeting. Root followed as Shaw strolled inside, ignoring the librarian who asked if she could help. Shaw wandered into the stacks, speeding up just a bit so that she had a moment out of sight. Sameen seized the hacker by the front of her blouse as Root rounded the corner, sliding her hand up to the back of her neck to pull her down into a searing, demanding kiss.

“What was that for?” Root asked when she got her breath back minutes later.

“I wanted to give you a good memory. I’m not cold enough to think that it’s shitty you don't have any really good memories here. Plus, it’s good to know I can still steal your breath even though you turned me into a goddamn whale.”

“I love that you wanted to do this. And trust me, ‘whale’ is the absolute last word I’d use to describe you.”

“Don't bullshit me Root. I'm gonna need a crane to get me to my feet after I sit before much longer.”

Instead of replying, Root grabbed Sameen’s hand and shoved it down the front of her pants. “Tell me, does this feel like I think you’re a whale? Like my desire for you has decreased one whit, one iota? Trust me when I say that I’ve never found you more attractive than as you are in your current condition.”

Sameen had to admit the evidence was hard to dismiss; Root’s underwear was _not_ dry. “Are you always…”

“Wet? Around you, twenty-four-seven. And I gotta say, you haven't been making it any easier with that waddle that you’ve picked up.”

“You know, for a moment there it sounded like you said I waddle, which is blatantly untrue,” Shaw growled, jabbing a finger into Root’s sternum.

Unfortunately and predictably, Root grinned. “It’s not a criticism, sweetie, because it might just be the most adorable fucking thing about you right now.”

“You know, if I didn't know better, I’d say you were deliberately trying to make me mad,” she murmured, pushing Root back into the other stack.

“It’s not my fault you can’t handle the truth,” Root replied, running a hand up the arm pressing her against the shelves.

Shaw opened her mouth to reply but then changed her mind. “You’re really annoying, you know that?” Sameen asked after pressing another kiss to the taller woman’s lips.

Root’s grin just widened a bit, not that she had expected anything else. “Yeah, but you love it, don’t you?”

Shaw was saved from having to answer that though when Root leaned to her side and peered around the side of the bookshelf for the fifth time since Shaw had dragged her back into the stacks.

“You expecting someone?”

“No, just…”

“Just what?”

Root sighed. “I keep expecting Ms Tomkins to interrupt us.“

“You afraid of getting caught by the librarian?“ Sameen asked, ire instantly transforming into amusement.

“She was scary when I was a kid,” the hacker replied defensively.

Sameen pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle the laugh that escaped. It was _not_ giggle and she would stab anyone who implied otherwise.

“Oh my God, was that an actual laugh?” Root asked.

“Shut up. It is funny though. Of everything that might actually put you off your game, I never would’ve expected librarians.”

“Not all librarians. Just two. And don't act like you would be the picture of poise if we were at your high school reunion. I’m sure you have a skeleton or two from then.”

“Still funny,” Shaw said as she got herself under control. “Now, this can't be the only place around here that could use some better memories.”

“I can think of one or two,” Root agreed.

\- Baby on Board -

By the time they made it to the school, it was nearing three and Shaw was starting to get hungry again. The sign-in table was placed just inside and to the right of the main doors, the red plastic drape entirely filled with pre-printed nametags. The woman behind the table, a brunette taller than Shaw but shorter than Root and pretty enough to be noticeable without being stand-out gave the pair a plastic smile.

“Welcome to the Bishop Class of ‘99 Reunion Weekend, I’m Rebecca Smythe, if you don’t recognize me. What are your names?”

“Samantha Groves, with a plus-one.”

“And who’s your plus-one?”

“Sameen Shaw, girlfriend,” Shaw replied with a hint of bite, sliding an arm around Root’s waist and tugging her in. There was a point when the g-word would’ve had her all squirmy and hot-faced but time and the immediate circumstances dulled the prickle of that particular word to something easily pushed from her awareness.

It had taken Root pointing out more than a year after they had moved in together, (a situation of pure convenience Shaw had insisted to the rest of the team) that it had been longer since either of them had slept with anyone else for Shaw to admit they were a couple. It had been mostly to get Root to stop bugging her about their precise relationship status but even she had to admit that it was accurate descriptor.

To her credit, Rebecca kept her smile in place as she handed Root her laminated nametag. Shaw snatched it out of her hand and pulled a Sharpie from her pocket, drew a line through ‘Samantha Groves’ and wrote ‘ROOT’ in block capitals under it. Taking a sticky paper tag she repeated the process with her surname in big bold letters before slapping it on her chest.

Smythe picked up a triple-folded program and offered it to them. “It’s going to be a busy weekend, especially since we’re ending on the Fourth. There are mixers going on all weekend and we have plenty of things to keep you occupied in between.”

Shaw’s eyebrow quirked when she saw some of the events planned. “A shooting competition? Told you I needed to bring my G36.”

“So you did,” Root agreed.

“And check this out, there's a pie-eating contest tomorrow.”

“Is that really fair though, competing in your condition?”

“Fair is for losers. Imma eat all the pie,” Shaw said with a smirk.

They had just made it to the point where the hallway branched in opposite directions when someone called from behind them.

“Samantha Groves, you have grown into a vision. Robby Michaels, we had Chem together in our senior year.” Robby was a better-than-average looker, dressed in the uniform of the local sheriff’s department.

“I remember. Following in your father’s footsteps?”

“Had to grow up sometime. Dad’s retiring in two years and I’m in a good position to take over. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Sameen, my girlfriend.”

Robby’s smile faltered a moment at that and came back much closer to neutral. “Well. You might want to avoid Mrs. Draiman then.”

“Mrs. Draiman?” Shaw asked.

Root grimaced. “Eleanor Draiman, the librarian. She was about a hundred when we were here. I honestly don't know how she’s still alive.”

“And why do we want to avoid her?”

“She’s… old fashioned. Let’s just say if she had her way, the Church and State would be a lot less separated.”

“Ah.”

“Not to mention how she took unholy joy out of making everyone else miserable. Always petitioning to get all the good food taken off the lunch menu, keep students with drivers licenses from driving to school, kill the auto workshop…” Robby continued.

“Sounds like a peach,” Shaw muttered.

“I’m sure you’ll find out first hand at some point,” Robby told her. “She’s Bishop born and bred, like most of us and has that small-town nosiness.”

Shaw grunted and rolled her eyes. “Never would've guessed that.”

“Don't look now but Stacy King’s on her way over. Give me a shout if you need help.” Robbie turned and quickmarched in the opposite direction of the approaching redhead.

“Well if it isn't Samantha Gross. Never thought I’d see you back here in Bishop,” the woman said, smoothing her nametag out.

“Never thought I’d be back, Cocky King,” Root sallied back as she turned around.

Stacy was about about the same height as Root, perhaps an inch shorter, with curly strawberry-blonde locks that fell to her shoulders. Stacy’s eyes narrowed at the epithet so Sameen interrupted before the redhead could say something truly cutting.

“I’m Shaw,” she announced, stepping between the two taller women and thrusting out her hand. Stacy blinked, as if just noticing her. “You were about to say something bitchy to my girlfriend so let me stop you there. I get that you have to establish your cis, white, heteronormative dominance but if you just came over to be rude, go away.”

“Funny. I always thought you’d be the butch one,” Stacy said, looking over Shaw’s head.

“That’s the kind of shit I’m talking about. Fuck off.” Shaw emphasized her point by giving the redhead a light shove on the shoulder and she grinned when Stacy’s smirk slid off her face. “Go ahead, I dare ya. Hit the pregnant chick,” Shaw said, jutting her chin out. Stacy dropped her hand from where it had risen to her shoulder but the ugly look remained in her eye.

“Come on Sameen, no need to cause a scene already. Save it for once everyone’s drunk.”

“Yeah you’re right. That is a better idea and besides, I still need that tour you promised me.” Shaw let Root lead her away from the still-fuming Stacy, taking a left when the hallway split. “Where are we going?”

“One of the few places I liked about school,” Root replied, sliding her hand down the inside of Sameen’s arm to intertwine their fingers. Shaw smirked when Root stopped before the computer lab.

“Of course the school’s computer cave was your favorite place,” Shaw snarked, leaning against the doorjamb as Root drifted into the middle of the room, giving the machines on the desks a casual perusal. They were perhaps between five and ten years out of date which was better than Root had been expecting. The hacker made a mental note to make a tech-earmarked donation to the school. She harbored no particular affection for the place, but she knew that talent came from the most unlikely places and if a million dollars siphoned from someone who didn't need it could get one more student out of Bishop, it would be money well spent.

“The lab was run by a Mr. Berkshire when I was here. A lot of people looked down on me and my mom because my dad ran out on her when she got pregnant, but he was always nice.  He let me hang out in here whenever I wanted and always encouraged me to get out of Bishop.”

“Know what happened to him?” Shaw asked, moving from the doorway to perch on one of the desks near the door.

Root cocked her head. “She says he died in 2011. He was in his fifties, losing his hair and such by the time I was a freshmen. It’s not a surprise.” Root was quiet for a long moment. “This was my safe place for a long time. Until… I found Her. And you.”

Sameen had suggested this entire trip as a way to learn just this kind of thing and yet when faced with the exact thing she’d sought, she found herself frustratingly short on words. “Would you change it? Your dad bailing on you? How your classmates treated you?” Shaw asked after several seconds.

“There isn't a single second of a single hour of a single day I would change because it all led me to you. I thought I was complete for so many years, alone and looking down on the rest of humanity, not needing anyone or anything other than myself. Then…” Root trailed off but the unspoken words rang in Sameen’s ears.

“Has it changed much?” Shaw asked after a moment.

“Less than I’d expected. New paint, new floors, the rest seems to be the same. It even has the same smell, dust and cleaner.”

“You ready to find out mind-numbingly vanilla your ex-classmates lives are?” Sameen asked when Root looked ready to leave.

“Let’s.” Root held her arm out and Shaw looped hers through it.

“Think we can give someone an aneurysm before the end of the day?”

Root gave her a devilish smirk. “Sweetie, I love the way you think.”

The gymnasium was everything Shaw expected, a basketball court with the bleachers folded away, food on plastic trestle tables around the edge, circular ones arranged haphazardly across the remaining space. Root’s class had been just under a hundred students, only about two-thirds RSVPing and about half those already assembled. They got more than a few looks, arriving arm-in-arm. There were sheets by the doors, questions listed with the addendum that there would be a test at the end of the reunion and whoever knew their former classmates best would win the large ultra HD TV that was set up at the opposite end of the gym.

Root picked one up and Shaw knew that TV was as good as theirs. There was finger food laid out and some kind of yearbook-style video projected on a screen set up under one of the raised basketball hoops.

“You anywhere on there?“ Shaw asked.

“Unlikely. I was never one for attending school functions.”

“Shame. I would've liked to see the ugly-duckling-you.”

“Excuse me?“

Sameen gave her an amused smirk. “Oh come on, you were totally a late bloomer. I'd bet an arm and a leg that you were all gangly limbs, tripping over everything and clumsy as shit.”

“And I’m sure you were the picture of grace at that age too, Sam,” Root shot back but her smile robbed the comment of any bite it might’ve had.

“I totally was. Already had a black belt in taekwondo by the time I got into high school. Won my fair share of martial arts competitions. I needed a channel for my aggression and _maman_ figured trophies were better than arrests.”

Shaw handed two plates to Root as they approached the trestle tables, taking one for herself and proceeding to load all three plates down with as much food as she could manage without compromising their structural integrity.

“You were actually quite the criminal even before Hanna,” Shaw said after Root spent the next hour and a half reminiscing, including how she’d organized a locker dead-drop system for drugs, faked homework and test answers in her last year of middle school.

“One thing that’s great about the Internet is that it’s basically a meritocracy. The fact I couldn't go to a bar didn't matter when I could break into any private bank in the country. By the time people started to suspect my true identity, it didn't matter.”

“What’d you do when the client didn’t believe you were you?”

“Didn’t do meatspace meetings until I was in my twenties so it wasn’t much of a problem. By the time I did, I was rarely in a situation where I needed the job. They didn’t believe I was Root I just walked away. If they decided I was a threat… Well you know my file.”

“Actually, that’s one thing I always wondered; where’d you learn to shoot? Your dad left before he could teach you and neither your mom nor the Freys had any weapons ever registered in their names.”

“Took the hundred-k I used to frame Russell and found an old SEAL living in Wyoming who was willing to train me for some of it.”

“And he was willing to teach, what, a 14 year old kid how to shoot?”

“This was a bit later, so I was sixteen at the time, but ten grand bought me lessons without questions.”

“Those were some expensive lessons.”

“You know what they say: easy come, easy go.”

“Well, I think we know which one of us gonna be handling the family finances.”

“She _is_ an AI; money is just math and if theres one thing She excels at it would be math.”

“That is something we need to discuss too. Whatever you might think, you and the Machine are not interchangeable; having the Machine do stuff you are supposed to do is not acceptable.”

“That was a joke, Sameen,” Root replied, letting the smile drop. “Dealing with our finances is well below Her level."

"Yeah well you're a hacker; ‘Cheater’ is your middle name."

Root frowned. “Sam, you know that I’d _never_ -”

“I meant you take shortcuts, not that you’d cheat on me. Pretty sure you’d spontaneously combust if you ever even thought about it.”

Root rolled her eyes, corners of her mouth quirking upwards. "Okay, sweetie, whatever you say.”

“I’d stab you with my fork for placating me, but I still need to eat with it.”

“Kiss kiss to you too sweetie,” Root murmured, pecking her on the cheek after a moment.

\- Baby On Board -

Abbey Road was a significantly more upscale bar than Shaw had been expecting to find in Bishop, probably the reason why it had been chosen for the reunion.

The bar was about half full, forty or fifty people filling the main area. The bar itself stuck out from the middle of the lefthand wall, projecting about twenty feet out. There was a stage away from the door, a karaoke system set up overlooking the dance floor. There was a game of darts already in progress that Shaw arrowed in on as Root went to the bar for drinks.

Root was unsurprised to find Shaw machine-gunning darts right into the center red dot when she slipped onto a stool.

“You guys know you don't have a prayer of beating Sameen.” She smiled and crossed her ankles, sipping her Sprite through the straw. “She never misses.” Her statement was punctuated by the thunk of yet another dart into place.

Caught up, Shaw recorded her score on the small chalkboard and took the seat next to her. One of the group followed after a few seconds. “You a cop? You gotta do something with guns to be that good,” he said, gesturing to where Shaw was now in second place. “Mark Hatton,” he said, raising his glass of beer.

“Shaw,” Shaw replied succinctly. “And Marines, not police.”

“I was in the Army myself. Never saw any action but there are skills that don't lose their use.”

Shaw tipped her glass to him to give him the point. “Sorry but I don't remember you,” Root said.

“That would be because I'm not the Bishop High alumnus, my fiancée is. She’s somewhere over there,” he said, gesturing to the crowd milling about the stage and dance floor.

“As long as you’re not shacking up with Skanky Stacy, we’ll be just fine.”

“So I suppose that makes you the Samantha Groves,” he replied with a bit of a wince.

“That I am. I’m surprised I was important enough for reminiscing,” Root replied, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, you are plenty important. She still complains about how she got kicked off the cheer squad in junior year after her grades got hacked.”

“And you still talk too much when you drink,” Stacy said, slinking up from behind Hatton. “Still can't stay away from other people’s things, I see.”

Root rolled her head and gave Stacy a flat look. “One, I doubt Mark considers himself a ‘thing.’ Two, penises are Sameen’s thing, not mine, and three, he sat down at our table, not the other way around.”

“Babe, calm down. Sameen here just joined our game and bulls-eyed all her darts. Turns out she’s a veteran too.” He pulled Stacy onto his lap, but her scowl remained firmly in place.

Stacy draped an arm around Mark’s shoulders and gave Root a shark’s grin. “Sorry, I just get on edge when I see jealous, catty bitches around my fiancé.”

“Did you not get the memo the first time around?” Shaw asked, glaring at Stacy. “I get you two have this unresolved high school rivalry going on, but you really need to tone your bitch down or you and me are gonna have a few choice words.”

“Then perhaps you need to leave before you ruin this event for everyone else.” The room didn't go silent but the noise level did drop a notch or two.

Root turned in her seat to face the gray-haired librarian. “Mrs Draiman, what a horribly predictable displeasure.”

“Ms Groves. I can't say I’m surprised to see you have continued your descent into deviant behavior.”

Root opened her mouth to reply but was preempted when Sameen slid off her stool and bulled right into the other woman, forcing her a step back. “I have a pretty good idea what your dysfunction is, so why don't you go spew your hate somewhere it’ll be appreciated?”

“Excuse me, but this is my town, my home. I’ve lived here for as long as there’s been a Bishop so I think I’ve earned the right-”

“To arbitrarily judge those who don't fit your narrow-minded view of what is normal or proper?” Sameen interrupted.

“I was going to say I’ve earned the right to reckon what the people of my town would or wouldn't appreciate.”

“And what part of me is so objectionable? That I’m brown? Gay? Pregnant?” Shaw demanded.

“You have a real livewire on your hands,” Draiman said, speaking over Shaw’s head. “Not a surprise; you always did have an eye for trouble.”

Sensing things were about to pass the point of no return, Mark slid between Shaw and Draiman. “Okay ladies, we’re all here to have a good time, so why don't we head this off here and keep the cops out of it?”

The librarian looked like she was going to argue, insist they be the ones to move or leave but turned abruptly and headed deeper into the bar.

Shaw turned back to their table twenty minutes later after winning her fourth game of darts to realize Root wasn't in her seat. It only took a moment to locate her, up on the stage, holding the mic and swaying slightly as the first few bars of the song played. Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose a few seconds later when Root started crooning her way through My Girl, by the Temptations. Normally she wouldn't approve of Root making a fool of herself like she was, much less serenading her in front of a crowd of strangers but her ire faded as she got more than one dirty look from Root’s former classmates and a particularly sharp glare from Draiman so she didn't mind so much.

Root got a few appreciative cheers when she stepped down from the stage.

“You’re quite the singer,” Carl Boyer, according to his nametag, said. He sat down at one of the two unoccupied chairs. “Your husband is quite lucky.”

“I hope you’re being deliberately obtuse, Carl,” Sameen replied silkily.

“Why?”

“Because that means you’re an asshole and I like hitting assholes. I’m assuming your eyes work so you have to see that she isn't wearing a ring. So the only reason I can think of for you to ask about her nonexistent husband is you overheard our discussion with the librarian and decided to join the Prick Parade.”

“That’s not what-”

“Yes it is. Come on, Root,” Sameen said, sliding off her stool and taking Root’s hand. “You need to take me back to the motel, tie me to the bedframe and fuck me into next Tuesday.”

Shaw suppressed the grin she felt at the scandalized and offended expressions of those within earshot.

“You’re terrible,” Root murmured, pressing herself into Shaw’s arm, sliding one arm down to intertwine their fingers as the other wrapped around her elbow.

“You say ‘terrible,’ I hear ‘awesome,’” Shaw replied as they stepped outside.

“Sure, sweetie, that’s exactly what I meant. Do you really want to be tied down tonight?”

“I said that mostly to mess with your classmates but I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn’t want to be.”

“And it won’t, you know…”

“You would have to have brought a really big dick to hurt the kids. Besides, do you think I would offer anything that would jeopardize the twins?”

“I know you wouldn’t, I was just wanted to make sure.”

“Trust me, if you start to do anything the least bit dangerous, I’ll let you know first thing. Now can we get back to the motel already?”

\- Baby On Board -

“Oh. Hell. Yeah,” Shaw growled, rubbing her hands together when she saw the mountain of pies stacked on a cart on the stage when they arrived in the gym the next morning.

There were six piles of a dozen pies, each pile a different flavor arranged on a multi-level rolling cart. Shaw was the last of the eight (and only female) competitors to arrive, according to the registration sheet posted in the front office. The competitor’s stage was set up in the gym so the two hundred or so spectators could sit in the bleachers. Several of her opponents gave her swollen belly significant looks as she eased herself into the last empty chair but nobody actually had the nerve to say anything, a few grinning or wagging eyebrows at the bruises around her throat and wrists.

Shaw only glanced at the man who followed her up the stage long enough to register his name tag, Jeremiah Whitcomb, Principal.

He droned on for a minute, Shaw tuning him out, her gaze tracking the pies when the principal began rolling the cart down the table. She snagged the last of the chocolate pecan pies on the topmost rack of the cart. The competition was for total volume consumed, so instead of trying to shove as much pie down her hole as some of her competitors were she lifted one of the pre-cut slices out of the pan and took a modest bite. She was only three-quarters of the way done with her first pie when the first of her competition tapped out a pie and a half in.

The other men at her table weren’t so amateur, the next lasting two and a half and the third four pies before puking. Eaters Four and Five got through some part of four pies before giving up. The last contender to her pie-eating crown, Neal Harrison, had been matching her almost bite-for-bite and was looking a little green around the gills. None of the other competitors had an eater’s build, but Harrison was easily two hundred fifty pounds of rancher (given his Stetson and spurs.)

“You’ve done a good job,” he said out of the corner of his mouth as he swallowed. “But I’ve been doing this kind of thing for years and I don’t care how pregnant you are, eating takes practice.”

Shaw snorted. “Dude, I’m six months pregnant with twins and I haven’t had anything to eat today. If you think you’re winning, you’re dreaming. I could eat another five pies.”

Neal shook his head and chewed a little faster. Shaw didn’t try to match because regardless of what she’d said, she was on her fifth pie and hadn’t been prepping like Harrison said he had. She had three slices of her apple pie left when it started catching up to her, her stomach abruptly informing her that it was suddenly very full. She chased the next bite of her pie with a sip of water and swallowed hard, pausing to try to let her stomach settle before taking another bite. Neal saw her slowing down and gave her a look. “Quit before you puke. You’re not gonna beat me so just stop before you embarrass yourself.”

“’M not gonna puke,” Shaw protested as she mastered her gorge and took another mouthful. “But I can’t eat another bite,” Shaw admitted after she forced it down. Slumping and nudging her pie back she shot him a gimlet eye as he took another two bites before he set his fork down.

“Ass,” Shaw grumbled as the principal declared him the winner.

“She doesn’t actually mean that,” Root amended, materializing at her elbow to help her up. “She just doesn’t like losing.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotten a lot worse from a lot less attractive. You did pretty good for a first-timer.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t have to rub it in with those last two bites.”

“Always better to be safe than sorry. I’ve lost competitions by a bite before so I always take two extra bites just to be sure.” Shaw shook Root off and marched down off the stage, ignoring one of the judges that tried to hand her a second-place ribbon.

“Stop grinning,” Shaw growled as she stalked away.

“But I can’t help it; you’re just so adorable when you get grouchy like this.”

Shaw rounded on Root, jabbing a finger into her chest. “Call me adorable again and you’ll see how adorable my knuckles are.”

“I wouldn’t get too upset; you’ll have your chance to get even soon. A little birdie has informed me that Neal will be participating in the sharpshooting competition today.”

“Chance can’t come soon enough,” Shaw muttered. “Come on, let’s go scope out the firing range. She have anything to say about what the competition is?” Shaw smirked when Root didn’t reply immediately. “She does, doesn’t She and She’s saying that I’m gonna get to shoot all my guns.”

“Most of them,” Root allowed. “There’s gonna be three parts, 25 meter pistol, 50 and 300 meter rifle three positions.”

“Does She say anything about caliber and type allowed?”

“It’s just for fun so everyone has to provide their own guns and ammo. The only restriction is that the 50 meter has to be shot with an open sight.”

“Well that’s boring, just shooting some vanilla ISSF-type shit. I’ll have to see what I can do to make it less boring. Either way, it’s a good thing I brought both my G36 and SRS, isn’t it?”

Root rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I ever raised an objection, okay?”

“You’re forgiven. We need to make a stop or two on the way to the range though.”

\- Baby On Board -

The reunion organizers had gotten the range for the competition set up at the Harrison Ranch. It was one of the larger homesteads in the area, the gun range set up the better part of a mile back from the worn plank gate. Their errands had taken them a while so there was already a bit of a crowd assembled under a white canopy by a small barn. The canopy was about thirty feet square with a long folding table that stretched most of the length. A dirt berm had been raised downrange, a little ways behind a metal frame that was clearly designed to hold paper targets.

The shooters were in varying stages of preparing their firearms on the bench while the rest of the alumni looked on from the shelter of the barn.

“This is a shooting range, not a nursery,” one of the men at the bench called out when he saw Root and Shaw walking up with a rolling suitcase.

“Then it’s a good thing I didn't bring a crib,” Shaw replied as she hoisted her valise onto the table with the rest of the gun cases. Pulling the respirator mask that was hanging around her neck into place and tugging on gloves that she pulled out of a pocket, she unzipped the suitcase to reveal her partially-disassembled rifles. By the time she had them put together, the last three contestants had arrived. “Is there anything else anyone wants to say before we get started?” she asked as she flipped the stock out on her G36, snapping the magazine into place and racking a round as she shouldered it.

“Only that I’ll put my American-made M4 up against whatever Eurojunk piece-of-shit you got there any day of the week,” one of the men near the opposite end of the table said.

“Gladly. Wanna put money on it?”

“What’d you have in mind?” another of the challengers, Tom Hopper, asked.

“Hundred dollars to the winner, just to keep it friendly. But I was thinking that we’d make this actually interesting. Everyone here agree they’re good? That they could do this lame-ass regulation shooting in their sleep?”

“Lady, you do know you’re in Texas, right?” Hopper drawled.

“Then let’s do some shit that’s actually hard. Harrison, can you hang anything out of the top of your barn there?”

“Yeah, what were you thinking?”

“I dunno, hang a bale of hay out and try to shoot the rope? To start with at least. I’m sure there’s plenty of other stuff around here we could use to rig up some other challenges.”

Harrison grinned. “Sure, I can think of one or two things that could be useful.”

\- Baby on Board -

It took the group about an hour to decide on the challenges and rig them up. It was agreed that they would go through the challenges as a series, one by one because of the time it would take to reset them. In the end the group agreed on two sets of six challenges, once with pistols and then again with rifles. In the event there was a tie, they would resort to bulls-eye shooting.

It was agreed that the first challenge would be the rope-shot, simply because it was the easiest to set up. After a couple rounds of rock-paper-scissors, it was agreed that Shaw would be shooting about two-thirds of the way through the pack.

Some of the spectators had brought chairs to sit in but Harrison had anticipated not everyone would so he’d brought a few hay bales down and covered them with blankets to make a bench. Some of the shots were going to be quite difficult, even for Shaw, so Root left her to get in the zone. Of course that just meant that she had left herself vulnerable to being approached by her ex-classmates.

“So. How embarrassed are you gonna be when your wife shoots herself in the foot over there?” a redheaded man asked, leaning on the “back” of the bench.

“One, not married,” Root said turning around and wiggling her naked ring finger, “and two, my sweetie can shoot the wings off a fly at a hundred paces, easy. She _never_ misses, not once, not ever,” Root said with a deliberate drawl and easy grin, turning around to face the guy who’d spoken. “And as I recall, you’re the one who went all ‘Christmas Story’ and nearly had to adopt the pirate chic.”

“You know you’re the only one who still remembers that. Not that I actually came anywhere near shooting my eye out.”

“You still have a gap in your eyebrow, Mercer,” Root said, reaching back to flick it.

“How’ve you been?” Mercer asked, leaning away and hopping over the back of the hay bench.

“That is a complicated answer to a simple question.”

“Can’t be that complicated. You’re clearly doing pretty well for yourself. Nice clothes, nice car. _Very_ nice woman.”

“She is, isn't she?” Root agreed with a smirk. “Though don't let her hear you say that. She doesn't like compliments. Well, from people other than me at least.”

“Duly noted.” They fell silent for a bit, watching the first of the men take aim. “Did you hear about Hanna? They finally figured out what happened to her.”

“I did. It was actually a… friend who closed the case. Trent Russell buried her under his patio.”

“I just wish he had lived long enough to face justice for killing my sister.”

“He did, trust me. His run-in with Jose Barilla was not an accident or mistake.”

Mercer gave her a sidelong look. “You’re not saying…”

“A bad thing happened to a bad man. Nothing more, nothing less,” Root replied without meeting his look. “He died somewhat quickly and relatively painlessly.”

“Sam-”

“It’s Root now, Mercer. And if you’re gonna lecture me-”

“Thank you,” he interrupted. “I don’t care how you did it, but I’m glad you did. My sister was a good person and didn't deserve to be disappeared like she did.”

“You shouldn't thank me. I didn’t do it for you or any altruistic reason.”

“So what? You saying that I can’t be grateful just because you didn't do it for me?”

“I’m saying… killing Russell put me on a bad path for a very long time. I don't regret it, but-”

“He got what he deserved Root. Less, if we’re being completely honest.”

Now it was Root’s turn to shoot him a sidelong look. “Isn’t condoning someone getting killed the same thing as killing them to you Catholics?”

Mercer shook his head. “I’m not a very good Catholic. And I have two daughters and a son. If being glad that a child killer got his just desserts sends me to the hot place when I die, I can live with that.”

“If you say.“

“I do. Anyways, enough about Russell. What do you do for a living now?”

“Private eye,” Root said, fishing out a business card. “You?”

“Lawyer. Work for a children’s protection firm in Dallas.”

Root rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. You always were the good one.”

“Only in comparison to you. And even then not by much.”

Root let the conversation drop when Shaw racked a round on her USP and took aim. Someone called Mercer’s name and he got up after extracting a promise to talk again.

Shaw waddled over and dropped to the hay next to her fifteen minutes later. Root accepted the G36 when Shaw handed it to her, waiting as Shaw pulled off her mask swapping it for a granola bar from a pocket.

“You gonna stop staring anytime soon?” Shaw asked two bites later.

“You handed my your rifle.”

“What? No I didn’t, give that back.”

Root let Shaw tug it from her grip easily, but kept her smile in place. “No, you can’t take gun-sharing back, especially when you did it without thinking.”

“Watch me,” Shaw growled, shoving the rest of her granola bar in her mouth.

“Don't worry, I’ll remember for both of us. What do you think your chances are?” Root asked with a tip of her head to the men waiting to shoot.

“Got two ex-Army, couple militia-types and some home-defense guys. It’s in the bag.”

“That confident?”

“I mean, unless one of them is secretly Delta or a scout sniper, yeah.”

Root leaned back, casually laying her arm across the upper hay bale. Shaw shoved the wrapper into her pocket noisily, shooting a sidelong look before leaning back into Root’s arm.

“Have a nice chat with your friend?”

“Hanna’s brother, Mercer. He wasn’t a friend, but he was nice to me when I went over to Hanna’s house.”

“Sounds nice. I knew everyone you went to school with couldn’t hate you. All the boys love me.”

Root cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Totally. The guys love the gay preggo chick that shoots better than all of them.”

Root didn’t quite pout, but it was a close thing. “I don’t think that’s quite fair, everyone liking you more than me.”

Shaw grinned. “It’s not my fault everyone thinks I’m cooler than you.”

“I could almost hate you sometimes.” Root fell silent for a moment, eying Shaw contemplatively. “You know, you’ve been… well if you were anyone else, I’d call you happy.”

“You repeat this to anyone else and I will make your life a living hell, but… yeah, I guess. Maybe not happy because I don’t do happy… but… content, perhaps. Good job, good friends…”

“Good girlfriend?” Root asked.

Shaw shot her a flat look before bringing the corners of her mouth down out of the small smile. “Acceptable acquaintance,” Shaw offered.

“You’re terrible. But I know what you mean. After Hanna, I certainly never thought I’d end up with friends, let alone a family.”

“We’re not-”

“Sam, if you deny that you and I are family, then you really will hurt my feelings. We’re two people making a baby together; I think that’s the dictionary-definition of family.”

“Fine, I won't argue that we’re a family but I will deny the rest to my dying breath.”

“So I guess a ring is still out of the question?”

“Still not marrying you Root. Stop asking.”

“Never. I’m gonna get you to make an honest woman out of me one of these days, sweetie.”

“It’s good to have dreams, I guess.”

“You can’t deny me forever, Sameen.”

“Wanna bet? Need I remind you, I’m not the one who caves when we use ice or wax.”

“That’s because I'm just that in love with you. You intoxicate me with just your presence, Sameen," Root murmured, leaning in close to nip at the shell of her ear.

Shaw turned her head to the left, pushing Root’s face away, pressing her lips into a thin line to keep from betraying her amusement. “God, you’re such a sap.”

“Maybe, but you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

Shaw turned her head to give that the reply it deserved but Root preempted her with a kiss. Shaw tried to muster some annoyance at her partner but… “One of these days I’m gonna find something you aren’t completely amazing at.” Predictably, Root’s grin almost took in her ears. “And don't be dumb. You’re good with your tongue and yes I mean that with all possible connotations so don't be obnoxious.”

Shockingly, Root didn’t say anything, simply giving her an obnoxious, smug smirk that did absolutely nothing to quell the surge of irritation that rose in Shaw. The last of the shooters finished a moment later and Harrison tallied scores on the chalkboard. She, Mark Taubman and Robby the Sheriff were tied for first place so Shaw tugged her gloves back on and slipped her mask back into place. She shot Root a glare when the other woman got up and offered her a hand when she failed to push herself to her feet on the first try.

Taubman was a slightly overweight man with a receding hairline with a Colt M1911 in a drop holster and a MK 17 SCAR-H on the table in front of him. “You mind?” Shaw asked, gesturing at his rifle.

“Be my guest,” he said, stepping back. Shaw picked the rifle up, checked that the chamber was clear and shouldered it.

She flicked it up a couple times, popped the action and peered down the scope. “You Delta?”

He nodded. “You got a good eye if you can tell that from just my rifle. I’m guessing you’re ex-military too?”

Shaw nodded. “The tattoo also helped,” Shaw said, nodding at the ink on his forearm. “And yeah, Marines, then ISA. Nice heater,” she answered, flashing her USMC caduceus and handing it back. “How long you been out?”

“Eight years. I’m a team leader for Halloran Security Consulting now. You?”

“Started a PI firm with Root. Samantha,” she said, jerking her head at the brunette when he gave her a confused look.

“You two ready to do this or do you want my life story too?” Robby asked, loading the cylinder of his Python with deliberate slowness.

The two men exchanged a nod. The paper targets had already been set up ninety feet away, the standard International Shooting Sport Federation range for precision pistol shooting as agreed beforehand. Mark and Robby each assumed standing stances, while Shaw took a knee. Neal gave a countdown and the three of them immediately started firing. Shaw brought her USP, exhaled and squeezed the trigger. She waited about a second and a half, then squeezed it again, and again and again until her clip was empty. One of the spectators took a four-wheeler and retrieved their targets.

Her grin stretched when she saw Mark and Robbie each had a single flier, while she had none. “And that’s how a Marine shoots, gentlemen,” Shaw said holding up her target.

The two men tossed their empty guns aside and gave her a pair of begrudging congratulations before Root rushed up to offer her own. They got a couple hoots when Root swung her around and laid a wet, messy kiss on her. Shaw scowled when Root set her down, taking a second to regain her balance.

“Alright, time to pay up boys,” Shaw said, holding out her hand. They pair dug their wallets out and handed the cash over with only slight reluctance. The rest of the shooters had packed their guns away already so she was left to break down her rifle while Root started carting their stuff back to the car. “So that was fun,” Shaw said as she closed the passenger side door.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Always nice to remind a GI that the Marines are where the real shooters are at. You see Taubman’s face at the end there? That’s gonna be pricking him for a while.”

“All you soldiers are completely ridiculous when it comes to which service is best. It’s like your lizard-brain immediately takes over when you see someone from a different branch.”

“And how is it any less ridiculous than your bad-guy banter bullshit?”

“Banter is a like a a handshake or exchanging business cards. It’s a mark of professionalism.” Shaw didn’t say anything, but her expression made it so she didn’t have to. “Shut up,” Root growled, cheeks reddening.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I don’t care. I know you’re thinking it. Shut up.”

Shaw let her smirk widen to what she knew Root would find an annoying width, then turned her head to look out the window.

\- Baby on Board -

Root woke up on their third morning in Bishop to find Sameen’s side of the bed cooling. Opening her eyes to double check, she saw that Shaw’s side of the bed was indeed empty, but the bathroom light shone from the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor.

The door wasn’t completely closed so she felt safe in pushing it open. The sight on the other side, however, had her heart beating against the back of her teeth. Shaw was sitting on the toilet, the toilet paper she was using to wipe between her legs coming away red. Shaw looked up and scowled when she saw the look of panic on Root’s face.

“I know what you’re thinking and you need to put it out of your head. I’m fine, the babies are fine, we’re all fine.”

“Sweetie, you’re _bleeding,”_ Root disagreed, kneeling between her legs.

“It’s not like that, it’s called spotting. You were a little rough last night is all. I promise you everything’s fine. I’m _fine.”_

“I’m calling the doctor,” Root announced resolutely, pushing herself to her feet.

Shaw sighed, hurriedly pulling her pants up and shuffling after Root. The taller brunette must have had the doctor on speed-dial (not surprising) because Shaw could already hear the other end ringing as she stretched the elastic waist to button them. (God she hated wearing pants with elastic waists.)

Shaw waited patiently on the bed as the phone range four times and the receptionist transferred her.

“Hi, Dr Reeds, it’s Root. Uh huh, fine mostly, Well Shaw woke up this morning and she was bleeding. I just wanted-”

Shaw cut her off by snatching the phone out of her hand and turning on the speaker. "Hey Doc, it's Shaw. Root is being paranoid, I'm just spotting after we got a little rough last night. You don't hide things from your doctor," Shaw said by way of explanation when Root arched a delicate brow.

The doctor hm’ed. _“I don't suppose I can complain about just a little oversharing. Your last appointment was good, but I wouldn't mind seeing you soon. I know I don't have to remind you you're carrying-”_

“Twins, trust me, I haven't forgotten. We’re actually out of town right now, I’ll let you know when we’re back.” Shaw ended the call before Reeds had the chance to reply, shoving the phone back at Root. “Happy?”

“Not really. I don’t care how not-serious you think it is; you were bleeding from your vagina, Sameen. While you’re pregnant with my kids. I think that gives me the right to a bit of moderate panicking. Seriously, I don’t know what I would do if I were to do something to hurt you in the bad way while still carrying.”

Shaw sighed, dropping down to the edge of the bed and pushing her pants and underwear down. “See?” she asked, spreading her knees. “The bleeding’s stopped. There is absolutely nothing to be worried about.”

Root dropped into a squat, narrowing her eyes as if that would reveal some heretofore invisible trickle of blood. “Fine. But we are going to see Dr. Reeds the _second_ we get back to New York.”

Shaw sighed again. She seemed to be doing a lot of that of late. “Fine. I’m due for another check-up anyways. On one condition.”

“No way, I’m not-”

“We have sex again tonight,” Shaw interrupted.

“What?” Root asked after a moment.

“I will go see Doc Reeds ASAP, if we have sex tonight.”

“Sweetie, there’s no way I can risk hurting you again so soon.”

“And that’s exactly why we will be fucking. You did absolutely nothing wrong last night. I know that and you need to know that. I’m not made of glass and you aren’t going to hurt us by being _slightly_ too rough with me.”

“Pregnancy has made you very pushy lately.”

“Yeah well, not being able to do most of the things I like to do has made me have to double-down on the few things I can.”

“Not sure how I feel about being called a thing but I’m down with the doubling. _After_ we see Dr. Reeds.”

“Keep telling yourself you can resist me that long but I’m getting laid tonight.”

\- Baby on Board -

Root was feeling antsy. She knew that there was absolutely nothing and no one in the town that could harm Shaw but she couldn’t help worrying anyways. Shaw had left shortly after lunch, saying she needed some time to herself. Shaw had gotten much more tolerant of people in general but she sometimes still needed time alone. Root knew she’d been much more touchy-feely with her lately so she could hardly fault her. Still she could barely stop her foot from tapping as she loitered across the street from the school, under cover of the pavilion that served as the ashtray. She hadn’t smoked in years and she doubted she ever would again, but she bummed one anyways. Being back in Bishop was proving stressful and she felt the tension creeping up between her shoulders.

She ground the butt out on the heel of her shoe and flicked it away. The day had been cloudless but the Texan heat remained, muggy and heavy. She let her shirt billow as she trotted across the street and into the school. The school had organized a barbeque as the last event of the weekend on the football field. There were both long trestle tables and smaller, more private round and square tables.

She wasn’t left waiting at her table for long. She was on her third glass of wine, swirling the crimson alcohol before taking a sip. Her drink was forgotten a moment later when she saw her partner and the likely reason why Sameen had asked for the afternoon to herself. Shaw strode onto the field in full dress blues, complete with cap, gloves and sword.

“ _Good_ _evening_ , Captain,” Root purred, rising to her feet. Shaw knew there were maybe two things that got Root going more than some dress-up and judging from the way Root grabbed her lapels, yanking them together, getting her old uniform tailored had been an excellent idea. The lower half of her jacket had been let out so the bottom three buttons would close over her stomach and the waist let out so it didn’t dip and ruin the lines. Shaw grinned. There was no way Root was going to be able to keep her hands off her later.

She wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant taste of her lips and breath when Root dipped her head to kiss her. “Were you smoking?”

“Yeah, sorry. You asked for the afternoon to yourself and I know nothing could happen to you but…” Root sighed. “It’s just being back in this place, it’s been messing with my head. I needed something to destress before I just freaked out.”

“Fine, I guess I can get that but that’s your last one. Cigarettes are gross.”

“It was just the one, I promise.”

There were a couple grills set up in the nearer endzone, loaded with ribs, brisket, hotdogs, sausages, burgers and just about every topping and side desirable. Shaw uncharacteristically hadn't eaten enough to set the deli owners for life so compensated by taking two of all the entrees available and a helping of all the sides except for the coleslaw.

They had almost made it back to their table when they were accosted by Carl Boyer, one of the men from the bar. "You need to find somewhere to change out of that uniform."

"Excuse me?" Shaw asked, more out of reflex than an actual need for him to repeat himself.

“You heard me. That uniform is only to be worn by a Marine, a _real_ Marine. It is an honor to wear that and you do nothing but _dis_ honor-”

Carl didn’t get to finish his thought, interrupted by Root’s knuckles on his jaw. He stumbled back, equal parts pain and surprise showing on his face.

He got over his shock quickly enough though. “I would advise you to shut up,” Root said as he rubbed his jaw.

“Absolutely not,” he growled. “I am a Marine myself and I will not stand by as some faggot sand ni-”

He blocked Root’s next punch, a straight jab that would have bloodied his teeth but did not anticipate the knee to the groin and right hook to his temple that sent him crashing to the grass. “Call my girlfriend a sand nigger again, I dare you,” Root growled, kneeling over him.

“Fuck you,” he said which was the wrong thing to do because that just made Root punch him in the mouth.

“Anyone else have an opinion they want to share?” Root asked the onlookers.

Unsurprisingly, Eleanor Draiman pushed her way through the crowd. “Just that it will be a pleasure to see you in handcuffs.”

“Don’t look at me,” Robby said from where he was sitting in a nearby table. “I heard everything; if anyone is getting arrested it’d be him.”

“He’s the one that was assaulted,” Draiman protested.

“He’s the one that instigated,” the deputy countered. “My wife is from Saudi Arabia, if you didn’t know so he has no sympathy from me.”

“Then you should know I’ll be filing a complaint with the Department. And I will be making sure that the lawsuit find you as well, wherever it is you’re living now,” the librarian replied.

“Go ahead. I’m pretty sure I can afford better lawyers than the county can. Actually, no, I know I can. And then when my lawyers have take county’s to the cleaners, I’ll send them after you. And believe me when I say I will make sure they don’t stop until you’re stealing library fines to pay for, well, everything,” Root said.

“The ability to sue anyone for anything is just about the most American thing there is,” Robby said when Draiman shifted her glare to him. “I sure as hell ain’t arresting anyone for exercising their rights.”

Eleanor helped Carl to his feet, baring bloody teeth as he pinched his nose. Root looked down at the plates of food she’d dropped when she’d punched Carl. “Shit. I’ll go get you some-”

Her thought was cut off when Shaw reached up and pulled her down to smash their mouths together. “That was _fucking hot_ ,” Shaw husked when she let Root pull back to breathe. Root’s pupils were blown wide, the thinnest rings of brown around black and flowers of crimson high on her cheeks.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. We should get going.”

“And skip out on all this barbecue?”

“They don’t serve what I want to eat here,” Shaw replied, gaze smoldering, setting Root’s libido into overdrive.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

 


	7. Month the Seventh - Subur-Hell

“You gonna tell me what you’re working on there?” Root asked at thirty thousand feet. Shaw had asked for pen when they’d boarded and spent the next forty-five minutes scribbling on a piece of paper she’d pulled from a pocket. “You’ve been scratching at that for days now.”

Shaw considered the paper for a moment, biting her lip before she slid it over.

“Names?” Root asked when she saw the dozen or so listed.

“Ones we’re not allowed to use,” Shaw explained.

A small smile curved Root’s mouth as she reviewed the list. “No comic book, TV or movie characters? No rhyming, emotion, color, flower, thematic or stripper names? What constitutes a stripper name?”

“You know, stuff like Kitty, Amber, Trixie, Desirée…”

“And what if I like Desirée for a name?”

“Tough shit. If I left it up to you, you’d name them both something that starts with Sam because you’re twelve years old. Which is also not allowed.”

Root pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“No, I’m keeping you from ruining our kids lives by giving them stupid names.”

“So does this mean we each name one?”

“It means you can suggest names and if they aren’t stupid, we can consider them.”

“You’re using ‘we’ a lot.”

“Well, yeah. You’re gonna be their parent too. Names are just about the most important decision someone can make for their kid and if we can’t figure that out then we are super fucked.” Shaw’s gaze shifted from Root to something behind her. “Do you need something?”

Root turned to look across the aisle to see another passenger staring at them. “Sorry,” the woman said, blushing slightly at getting caught eavesdropping. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. May I just say that you two are-”

“No you may not,” Shaw interrupted tersely.

“She’s a little… sensitive. But thank you for the compliment.”

“Sensitive?” Shaw hissed when Root turned around.

“Are you saying you’re not? You’re gonna have to get used to talking about the girls eventually, sweetie. Unless you think I’m going to hide out with our kids at home and never mention them in public?”

“No,” Shaw allowed begrudgingly.

“Do I embarrass you?” Root asked, bringing her voice down to a level that was private. “Have you changed your mind?”

Shaw groaned and thumped her head back against her seat. “You can be really insecure sometimes, you know? You’re the only person in the world that gets me, the only person who I could _possibly_ be with. I know I can be... Difficult... but I would’ve hoped you’d understand that by now. I will never regret deciding to have a family with you Root. Besides, it gives my mother one less thing to complain about when we see her.”

“Do you think she’ll be upset?”

“I think she’ll be surprised, but she’s also always been very open-minded. Being married to a civil rights lawyer does that.”

“But you think she’ll like me?”

“Did you listen to what I just said?  She’ll be happy that I’m having kids. That alone will be enough for her to like you.”

Root frowned. “That wasn’t exactly the answer I was looking for.”

“I didn’t say it was the only reason she’d like you; I said it would be one reason. Honestly as long as you don't put a gun to my head, you'll be fine."

"Note to self, don't issue death threats to girlfriend in front of future mother-in-law."

Shaw considered pushing back on the in-law thing for a split second but then thought better of it.

Root pouted again. "I thought that'd get more of a reaction out of you..."

"Which is why I didn't... I am never going to be that wife, not that I'm going to be a wife..."

"Don't make promises you can't keep..."

Shaw just groaned and pushed Roots face away from where she had gotten too close.

"Anyways, you have names you don't want to use, how about ones you want to?”

“I was thinking Michelle and Theresa, something simple. Their lives are gonna be complicated enough without names they can’t spell. You?”

Root reached into her her jacket and withdrew a piece of paper of her own. “How long have you been working on this?” Shaw asked, noting the three columns and well-worn fold lines. “You got like thirty names here.”

“The day after we got pregnant.”

“You've been working on this for seven months?”

“Babe, I’ve been counting the hours until you're due. It cant surprise your that I’ve been thinking about names too.”

“Just one problem with these names; they're all Persian.”

Root frowned. “How is that a problem?”

“Well unless you were planning on kidnapping me back to Iran then Ahoo falls under the ‘life ruined’ category.”

“I hardly think wanting to acknowledge my children’s heritage with a name is that serious.”

“Fine,” Shaw said after a moment. “Pick five names, no more than three syllables and pronounceable by a five year old. And nothing that starts with S-A-M.”

“Yeah, you already said that.”

“Well, you only have one working ear and a long history of selective deafness so it bears repeating.”

“Consider your message received loud and clear. No Sams and no exotic ethnic names. Quick question though, how are you going to stop me when the nurse hands me the forms while you’re stoned out of your mind on the epidural?”

“Mainly I would make your life a living hell and then change their names. Also you’re not a complete asshole and you wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you sure about that?” Root asked to which Shaw merely cocked an eyebrow. “Actually, no you’re right,” Root continued a moment later.

“Good.” She pushed the paper back over to Root. “Now if you could just cut it with the Stepford Wife impression I might be able to catch a wink or two without waking up in a cold sweat.” She waited several seconds. “Shit, you can’t stop grinning, can you?” Shaw asked, absolutely not fighting a grin herself.

“We’re picking out names for our kids,” Root said, moving a hand to caress her stomach. “What’s not to smile about?”

“I gotta pee.” Shaw got up and shuffled past. “Come find me in a minute.”

Root counted carefully to sixty before she got to her feet to make her way to the cubbyhole of the toilet and tapped on the door.

The door snapped open almost before the second tap, Shaw’s hand snapping out and yanking her into the cubicle. “Wanna join the mile-high club?”

Root just grinned.

\- Baby on Board -

Their visit to the Reeds Assisted Reproduction Clinic was their shortest one yet, just long enough for Linda to give Shaw a quick examination and confirm what she had told Root. All her good feelings evaporated the moment they entered the lobby of their apartment building though.

“What the hell are you doing here?“ Shaw demanded with a glare, fists on hips.

“I'm here for my daughter. Good afternoon Samantha,” Alex Heigl said with a direct look at Root.

“Sorry, you got the wrong person,” Root said, brushing past him.

“Not so fast,” Heigl said a costing her with a hand on her elbow. “I know who you are, Samantha.”

“There’s nobody here with that name, asshole,” Shaw growled, chopping his elbow to break his grip.

“You are Samantha Groves, born September 8th, 1978 to Abigail Groves of Bishop, Texas, at Corpus Christi Medical Center. I know this because I'm an FBI assistant director. I was surprised to learn that the angry reporter that had somehow hacked the FBI to get a meeting with me was not actually a reporter but my long-lost daughter.”

“Well, I’ll credit you on tracking me down. You found me, you can leave now.”

“Not so fast. You see, someone has been screwing with my life, trashing my credit rating, suspending my driver’s license... Being the newest thing in my life, Occam’s razor says you are the source of my recent difficulties. So you get to deal with me until we come to an agreement or you convince me that you will stop interfering.”

“Well he doesn’t seem like he’s here to arrest you. I say you give him five minutes.” Root shot a betrayed look at Shaw as the shorter brunette headed to the elevators. “Just keep in mind I know to actually disappear a body.” The look Shaw threw Heigl over her shoulder left little doubt in his mind that she would do it too.

“She gets one. She threatens me again and I’m arresting her.”

“I’m sure you’d try. She used to kill terrorists for a living; she isn’t any less dangerous just because she’s pregnant.”

“So are the two of you…” Heigl asked, making a vague gesture to the two of them as they entered the elevator.

“Gay?” Shaw asked.

“Or whatever else. Foster sisters, friends… As long as Samantha is-”

“Let me stop you right there. Her name is Root. You’ve already been told this. Use it or we are gonna have a problem.”

Heigl shifted his gaze between the two of them. “Your mother named you Samantha. I am going to use that name until you give me a reason to use something else.”

“Is the fact she chose her name rather than use the one given to her enough for you?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Alex said, irritation tinging his words.

“Then what did you mean?” Root asked.

“Samantha is the name your mother gave you, you should have enough respect for her to use it.”

“She did, but I respect her more by living my life as I want and that includes using the name that I choose.”

Heigl frowned but seemed to accept her reasoning for the moment. The elevator dinged and Root led the way down the hall to their penthouse, lugging their bags to the bedroom. “I can give you some time alone with him if you want,” Shaw offered when they were alone in their bedroom.

“Thanks, but you’re more family than he is. I have no secrets from you.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Root didn’t reply, simply taking her hand and leading her back out to the living room.

“So, what do you want?” Root asked when they’d returned.

“Seeing as getting you to unfuck my life doesn’t seem to be in the cards, how about what it was that I did to earn your enmity?”

“You mean other than being an all-around scumbag isn’t enough?”

“The situation with Ed Schultz was far from ideal but I was just following orders.“

“That is _literally_ the worst excuse anyone has ever used for anything, ever, but whatever. If you need another reason though, how about how you got a nineteen year old girl pregnant and bailed on her before her daughter was born?”

Heigl let out a long, breathy sigh and sat back on the arm of the couch. “How much did your mother tell you about me?”

“Enough. You breezed into town one day and things started to get violent within a couple weeks. Some of the ranchers outside of town got caught up in some kind of drug operation the feds were running. You disappeared right as it wrapped up.”

“That was because I was the lead undercover in that case. My cover was blown during the sting so I had to get out of town before I could put your mother in danger.”

“Did you know she was pregnant when you left?”

Heigl nodded. “In fact, I asked her to come with me back to Houston but she refused. Said that she couldn’t leave Bishop.”

Root glared at him. “Now I know you’re lying. Bishop is a shithole, especially for an unmarried, pregnant teenager. What possible reason could my mom have had to want to stay?”

Heigl shrugged helplessly. “God, I wish I knew. I cared for your mother dearly. I don’t know what else to say; your mother made it very clear that she didn’t want to ever hear from me again if I left. I know I could’ve pressed the issue, gotten a lawyer to make her let me see you but I couldn’t do anything that would make her hate me some day.”

Root snorted, clearly not buying a word. “Right, because that sounds like something a nineteen year old girl would say.”

“It’s the truth. Abigail was a very strong-willed woman. She had very definite ideas of what she wanted and they didn’t include raising her daughter anywhere other than Bishop.”

“This is all very convenient; there was clearly nothing for you to do except leave. Do you even remember my mom’s letter when she died?”

“I do. I understand she was suffering for a long time.”

“Multiple sclerosis is a miserable way to go,” Root agreed. “I’m sure would’ve appreciated seeing you again, instead of sending another payment.”

“I explained why I couldn’t be at your mother’s funeral in the letter. Did you not read it?”

“You didn’t send a letter. All I got was a stack of hundred dollar bills from Western Union.”

“No, I sent a letter and a plane ticket. I explained I was on an assignment on the other side of the country. You were supposed to take the ticket and use the money to get a hotel room until I got back to New York.”

Root shook her head emphatically. “There was no letter or tickets. Just the money. Lying isn’t endearing you to me.”

Heigl frowned. “I realize there’s nothing I can say that will convince you that I’m telling the truth. All I can do is ask that you give me a chance to make it up to you.”

“I’m really not hearing a good reason why.”

“Because I’m your father and I deserve tell you my side of the story.”

“I thought that’s what you’d been doing for the last ten minutes?”

Heigl pursed his lips, clearly biting something unwise back. “Please, Samantha-”

“Her. Name. Is. Root,” Shaw snarled, shoving Heigl in the shoulder back over the arm of the couch he was sitting on. “You know this. Use her name or not at all.”

“Fine, Root, all I’m asking for is the chance to make up for my shortcomings. And I’d really like to be able to know my grandchild.”

“He doesn’t seem like much more of an asshole than most of our numbers,” Shaw said with a shrug. “But it’s up to you.”

“I’ll think about it. Don’t ask me for more.”

“All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“Good, because that’s all you’re getting right now.”

“I’ll take it.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to check his watch. “I need to get back to the office. You have my number; I’ll be waiting for your call.”

“Was he telling the truth? Root asked as she flopped down on the couch after the door closed behind him. “Answer over the speakers, please.”

_‘His credit card records support the assertion._

_‘There was a purchase for a single first-class, non-stop ticket from San Antonio International to JFK.’_

Root sighed and let her head thump back against the back of the couch. “Shit.”

“Shit?”

“Yeah, shit. Mom never talked much about him growing up so I made up all these stories about him. Then Hannah died and I changed those stories. And when I meet him for the first time… Actually meet him…”

Shaw moved over to sit next to Root and took the other woman’s right hand to intertwine their fingers over her stomach. “Well, its not like you had him up on some pedestal. Given how eager you’ve been to meet my mom I would’ve thought you’d think it a good thing your dad’s not a complete shitbag.”

“I dunno, the thing with the tickets just means that someone was probably lying and I don’t know which I’d prefer.”

“Are you gonna call him back?”

“Ask me tomorrow. I don’t want to think about him anymore today. Right now, all I want to think about is you.” Root rolled her head to give Shaw a look that would’ve had her kicking Root out or leaving herself once. Now, she just leaned over to answer it with a kiss. The smile that Root rewarded her with made her warm in ways she never thought she’d be able to.

All further progress along that train of thought was abruptly derailed when Root slid a leg across her thighs and straddle her then proceed to kiss her as thoroughly as the hacker had ever  kissed her.

“What was that for?” Shaw asked a subjective eon later.

“I don’t know, I just… I had this feeling of… I wanted…” Root waved her arms expansively, frustration at her inability to properly express her thoughts showing.

“Now you know how I feel,” Shaw said with a small smirk. “Emotions suck, yeah?”

“Only when they make me wish I’d read more Shakespeare or Tennyson or Yates or something. Someone super romantic, who could say how super-mega-ultra-awesomely amazing you are, but better.”

“We agree I’m the best thing since sliced bread; let’s leave it at that unless you want me to vom all over because of your sap.”

“Psshh, you love my sap. _All_ of my sap. Especially-”

“Oh my God, Root, yes I get it. Seriously, you used to be… well not subtle, you were never subtle, but a shaped charge versus a rocket launcher at least. Jesus.”

“You still have the best similes.”

“I have the best everything,” Shaw said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“I may have to start giving you less compliments,” Root said after a moment. “You seem to be getting an unhealthily large ego recently.”

Shaw snorted. “Dream on, lover girl. I tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Besides, you’re completely obsessed with me. You’ve never had a bad thought about me.”

“Keep talking like that and I’m gonna soon.”

“Right. Let me know when that happens. Until then I’ll continue basking in your adoration.”

\- Baby on Board -

Sameen Shaw knew something was up the moment she woke, the sound of Root banging around the kitchen (which wasn’t all that unusual) and whistling (which was.)

She lay in bed for a few minutes, waiting for the heartburn to subside before getting up. Her feet throbbed, uncomfortably swollen as she shuffled her way to the kitchen.

“Ah, Sameen, no! What are you doing?” Root asked, whirling around and voice rising an octave above her normal pitch when she noticed her. Root spread her arms as if to conceal the food cooking behind her.

“Uh. Getting breakfast?”

“No, you’re not supposed to be up yet! Get out of here, now!” Root demanded, jabbing a finger back to the bedroom.

Sameen arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her belly. “What are you doing?”

“ _Trying_ to make you breakfast in bed but you aren’t exactly making this easy. Now would you _please_ go back and wait for me?”

“Fine. But you better have that ready in ten minutes or I’m coming back out here.”

She dropped her robe to the floor and groaned as she settled onto edge of the bed and rolled back under the sheets. She had just checked her phone for the third time and was about to go find out what was happening with the food when Root backed through the door. Shaw pushed herself back up against the headboard, almost upsetting the bedtable as she all but snatched it from Root’s grip. Root perched on the edge of the bed as she watched as Sameen ignored the silverware to roll one of the pancakes up and drizzle the syrup down the middle.

Sameen had scarfed down the rest of the food in less than ten minutes, the other three pancakes, dozen strips of bacon, two slices of regular and French toast, eight jumbo strawberries, a small bowl of cinnamon oatmeal and a large glass of OJ.

“So what do you want?” Sameen asked, mopping the last of the syrup up with her toast.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on, Root. You only do stuff like this when you are buttering me up for something. And given how you pulled out all the stops, I’m guessing it must be something big.”

“That hurts, Sameen. Can’t I just make my special lady a meal without ulterior motives?”

“You could, but you don’t. There’s always an ulterior motive with you.”

“I promise you, all I want was to make sure that you, all three of you have a healthy start to the morning,” Root said, leaning in to caress the side of Shaw’s bare stomach. “Plus, I like fucking you when you’re all sleepy and sated,” Root husked, slipping her hand down the back of Shaw’s panties.

“So all this was just a ploy to get into my pants?”

“That’s not exactly how I’d-”

“Because it’s working,” Sameen interrupted, sliding down the bed and canting her hips. “Like you have about five seconds to get to it before I start getting upset.” Root’s expression shifted to Sameen’s favorite sex-face, the one where her eyes got all lidded and smoky and downright predatory, like Root was some snake or bird of prey that was about to devour her. Root didn’t waste a millisecond; Sameen would later swear she saw her panties phase through the wall Root removed them so fast.

Unfortunately, they were not left to their lazy morning for long, Shaw still catching her breath as Root extricated herself and started getting dressed. “Got a number?” Shaw asked, propping herself up on one arm.

“Mhm, and it’s one that you can actually help with.”

“I’m not gonna like this, am I?” Shaw asked because she knew Root and the only way her partner would be okay with her in the field was if there was a infinitesimal chance of actually doing anything fun or interesting.

“I wouldn’t say that, you never know what kind of things you can learn to like.”

“That’s what I thought. We going to the Library first or heading straight out?”

“She said that there is a number, nothing more.”

Shaw gave a grunt of acknowledgment, catching the shirt Root tossed her.

The picture of their number was already up on the glass, but she barely noticed it because of the looks the two men were giving her. “I knew you were up to something,” Shaw said.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Root insisted.

“Right. So who’s the number?”

“Danielle Wolfe, thirty-four, married with kids.”

“I'm still waiting for the catch.”

“The catch is that she lives in Yonkers,” Reese told her.

“No,” Shaw said simply and turned to leave.

“Sweetie,” Root began gently, quick-stepping in front of her.

“You can ‘sweetie’ me all you want, Root, but I am not spending a weekend in the ‘burbs with you.”

“If you don’t come with me that means I’ll have to go with John.”

“No, John could take care of the number with his girlfriend, or Zoe, instead of you. Who knows, maybe a weekend of domestic bliss would get him to nut up and finally propose.”

“Actually, She says that I need to be on this number.”

Shaw glared at Root. “I thought you said She wasn’t talking to you about this number?”

Root averted her gaze, twisting her fingers slightly. “I may have fudged the truth a bit.”

“I knew it. I fuckin’ _knew_ you wanted something this morning. You just want to drag me out to the suburbs so you can play out some stupid homemaker fantasy with me.”

“Just think of it as practice for when the girls get here.”

Shaw growled and rounded on the two men who had been trying to make themselves invisible. “Tell me there’s someone else out there that’s about to be murdered.”

“Sorry, Ms Shaw, but Mrs Wolfe is the only number we have at the moment,” Finch replied apologetically.

“Please, do this for me? I promise, it’ll be interesting.”

Shaw maintained her glare at Root for a few seconds before relenting. “Her number comes up, you ignore it.”

“Just remember Shaw, you kill her, you’re the one who has to deal with Joss. And your twins, when they’re born because I’m not playing stepdaddy.”

“Fine, but Bear’s coming with us. Now tell me what’s so interesting about this lady.”

\- Baby on Board -

They had arrived in the late afternoon, Saturday (which was the point, Shaw was sure,) so it came as no surprise to her when the bell rang half an hour after they walked in the door.

“Well? I’m not answering it,” Shaw said from her place on the floor scratching Bear.

Root opened the front door to find a couple standing on the stoop, the woman holding a pie tin. “Hi, we’re the Chaddertons. I’m Helga and this is my husband Alex. We noticed you just moved in and wanted to be the first to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Shaw could hear Root’s idiot-charming smile from where she was in the kitchen. “Thanks,” Root replied warmly. “We’re glad to be here. My wife and I have heard really good things about the area.”

“Glad to hear it,” Alex replied. “We’re pretty close here; we’re having a party at the clubhouse tonight, last one before the school starts. You should come.”

“We’d be happy to. When does it start?”

“Four, but things won’t really get started until six. The pool is open so bring a suit if you want to swim.”

“Should we bring anything?”

“Just yourselves. See you then.”

Root accepted the pie and closed the door. “I’d ask if that was necessary but I already know the answer to that.”

“We need to make contact with our number somehow.”

“Actually no we don’t and even if we did, we sure don’t have to go to any party.”

Root gave her best puppy-pout. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t come, I said we didn’t have to.”

“You’re the best,” Root said, swooping in to give her a peck on the cheek.

Sameen rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Go upstairs and get our shit unpacked. And find something for me to swim in.”

“But sweetie, that would just increase your chances of having to socialize!” Root gasped in mock horror.

“It’s good exercise. Low impact, low stress. And you can tell me how hot I am in a two-piece because I know you packed me a suit.”

“Absolutely.”

“If we get kicked out because you perv too much, I’m just gonna laugh.”

“I’ll do my best but I make no promises,” Root sang as she walked away.

The pool was two streets away, part of a little complex that included an outdoor tennis and basketball court. The clubhouse wasn’t large, the main area only about the size of the living room in their new house and an attached kitchenette. Tables and lounge chairs were scattered across the wooden deck and side of the pool.

“Help me into the pool?” Sameen asked after they’d set their things down on a small round table with an umbrella set in the center. Shaw pulled the sundress over her head and took Root’s hand as she descended the steps into the pool because there was no railing.

She only managed a dozen slow laps before she started getting tired, drifting in the shallow end for a few minutes before getting out. Root kept a firm grip on her elbow as she guided her to another table where several other women were sitting. Shaw reached over to grab the plate that had too much food for Root and set it on her stomach, slouching down.

“Babe, this is Kaylee Sandoval, McKenzie Wiggins and Danielle Wolfe. Guys, this is my wife, Sameen.”

Sameen gave a tight smile as the other women greeted her.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve always wanted to have lesbian friends. How long have you been married Sams?” the one Root had introduced as Kaylee asked with a look that said she thought she’d said something clever.

“Eighteen years,” Root answered instantly, earning a glare from Shaw just as quickly.

“Don’t listen to her; I’m the surrogate. I’m just here for the money.” Their table-mates all exchanged looks of confusion. “If you wanna lie, I can do it too,” Shaw said with a look at Root.

“So…”

“Eight months,” Shaw replied, parroting the number the overly-detailed cover Root had given her stated.

“How did you meet?” Danielle asked after a moment.

“That’s… a long story,” Shaw said, trying to deflect but Root was having none of it.

“I was a… well I guess you could call me a private contractor looking for… actually, if I told you what I was looking for, I’d have to kill you. Suffice to say Sameen used to work for a secret part of the government and I thought she could help. Turned out she couldn’t, but by then she had thoroughly piqued my interest.”

“It’s slightly more complicated than that but those are the essentials,” Shaw said when the group’s collective gaze shifted to her.

“What did you do for the government?”

Shaw rolled her eyes. (She was going to make Root pay for the surgery if they ever got stuck.) “Exactly what you think I did.”

“You were a spy?” Kaylee asked in a tone that said how scandalous she thought that was. “Have you ever…” Kaylee paused, looking around as if there would be anyone eavesdropping. “Killed anyone?”

“Not recently.”

“So what do you do for work?” Root asked the women.

Sandoval owned a string of boutique salons Shaw had never heard of in the city, Wiggins was a homemaker and Wolfe was Executive VP of Product Management at Whitney Consolidated Intercontinental Transport. The conversation turned less sensitive subjects, how they liked the neighborhood, where they’d moved from, other insignificant lies about their cover.

It wasn’t until Danielle asked about their first date that Shaw started paying attention again. “I tazed and kidnapped her to help me with a job for our boss.”

“First, why the hell would you tell them that? Now they’re gonna think I’m your Stockholmed sex slave or something. Second, that was _not_ our first date.”

“Well, what would you consider our first date?”

“After Samaritan. That…” Root cocked an eyebrow at her. “Norway,” Shaw finished reluctantly.

“Not Miami?” Root asked.

“I still mostly hated you in Miami.”

McKenzie shook her head. “That’s not fair, you gotta share now.”

“It involved a troll hunter. That’s all I should say.”

“Some other time then,” McKenzie sighed.

“Or never,” Shaw muttered. She debated the merits of getting up to restock her plate versus making Root do it and handed the other brunette her plate. “And get me a drink!”

“What?” Shaw asked a few seconds later when the three women just stared at her.

“Just wondering if you realize how lucky you are,” Kaylee said.

“How do you figure?”

“You may not have realized this, but Samantha is of the opinion that you hang the stars at night,” McKenzie said, leaning on a fist.

“It’s only sweet until you have to deal with her heart-eyes twenty-four-seven. I got cavities. I’m just hoping she grows out of it by the time the bra… girls get here.”

“There are worse things than having a partner that dotes on you. Especially with how far along you are.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “There’s doting and then there’s smothering. Ro… Samantha can be… overbearing would be the nice word.”

“My ears were burning; were you talking about me?” Root said, reappearing with a plate.

“Just wondering if you were ever gonna be back with my food,” Shaw said, craning her neck and grabbing the plate.

“So what do you two do for jobs now? Doesn’t sound like you’re still doing whatever it was when you met.” Danielle asked.

“Samantha is a hospice nurse,” Shaw said seizing on the opportunity. “She specializes in those that are in a lot of pain, end-of-life care. It’s why she’s gonna be such a great mother.” Shaw rolled her head to look at Root, grinning.

“And you?” Kaylee asked.

“FBI,” Shaw blurted before Root could get a word out. “Special Agent.”

“Ugh, you guys are just too perfect,” McKenzie groaned. “I hate you both already.”

“She doesn’t means that, of course,” Kaylee assured them.

“I’m thirty two and never had a relationship last more than a year. Maybe I’ve been swinging at the wrong pitches,” McKenzie mused. “Do you guys know any good gay bars?”

“I’m sure I can think of one or two,” Root replied.

“Maybe when we’re done getting the house set up,” Shaw amended scraping the last of the chili from her bowl. “Just so _many_ things to get ready in so little time.”

“Maybe we could make a night of it then, when you need a break from your kids.”

“And it will happen, trust me,” Danielle assured them. “I have three myself and let’s just say my husband and I have made liberal use of the neighborhood’s babysitter’s group.”

“We will be sure to look into that,” Root replied.

Shaw slurped the last of her drink through her straw and burped. “Nice meeting you all but mama needs a rubdown and nap.” She held her arm impatiently for Root to grab because the deck chairs were far too low-slung for her to get out of unassisted. Shaw yanked Root’s arm from her elbow as soon as she grabbed it, practically slapping the hand to the side of her stomach.

Root’s eyes went wide as saucers, legs giving out from under and depositing her heavily back into her chair. Her shock only lasted a moment, her look of surprise shifting to glee.

“Oh my God, they’re kicking!” Root squealed, practically falling out of her seat to kneel and put her other hand on her stomach.

“Like MMA prizefighters,” Shaw agreed with a wince.

“Is that the first time you’ve felt them move?” Danielle asked. Shaw nodded for the both of them given that Root was still in her own world. “I remember the first time my eldest did that. Really drove it home for me.”

“Uh-huh,” Shaw replied, still a little stunned herself. Root managed to pull her head out of the clouds a few moments later and Shaw got them back on their way.

“So that was fun,” Root said a few minutes later, arm in arm.

“If you think raising my blood pressure to the point of having a stroke is fun, then sure.”

“Oh come on, you can’t say you didn’t have the teensiest bit of fun being the mysterious, kinky, killer lesbians from down the block.”

“You were having enough fun for the both of us.” Shaw tried to ignore the pout Root gave her. “Fine. If you want to be the freak from down the street, I’m not gonna stop you. But only because we’ll never have to see any of these boring-ass, Wonderbread-eating losers again.”

“It wasn’t a total waste of time though. I did get a standing invitation to the the Wolfe’s from Danielle’s husband. They were ever so understanding about the difficulties of starting a family and wanted to make sure I knew I could rely on them for anything we’d need. I think he’s laboring under the misapprehension that I’m hiding a penis though.”

“What?” Shaw asked as flatly as she could.

“Just some of the things he said. Letting me know that he was available to commiserate with if I ever needed to complain about you or women in general. Offering to take me out for a beer, for a drive, to the batting cages of all things.”

Shaw snorted. “He did play in the minors for a while before he blew out his knee.”

Root shrugged. “Regardless, I don’t think I will be taking him up on his offer anytime soon.”

“You better not. You go out on a man-date with him and I’ll probably get ambushed by the Stepford wives. No telling what I’d do.”

“Somehow, I doubt you’re the threat She warned us about.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. ‘I always wanted to have lesbian friends,’” Shaw said, mimicking Kaylee’s tone. “You sure it wasn’t Sandoval’s number we got?”

Root quashed the snigger that rose. “Quite. But I do have some good news. I’m pretty sure I know where the threat is coming from.”

Shaw stopped halfway through their front door, barely able to keep her feet as Bear barreled into her knees. “Already? That was quick.”

“Turns out Danielle isn’t who she says she is.”

“Who is?” Shaw asked derisively.

“Yes, well, Danielle actually works for the CIA.” Root angled her phone so Shaw could see their number’s GPS history, a significant part of her week spent commuting to Virginia.

“She’s a NOC,” Shaw stated more than asked. “Makes sense, I guess. Probably travels a lot in her position. If she’s a spook, doesn’t that make her relevant?”

“Surprisingly, it doesn’t seem like it’s her undercover work that’s gotten her into trouble. Or at least the people after her don’t seem to be aware of her real job.”

“Oh yeah?” Shaw asked, her interest finally starting to get piqued.

“Our dear Secret Agent Wolfe noticed some hinky shit going on at her company and brought it to her boss’ attention. Said boss has reacted with predictable hostility.”

“’Hinky shit?” Sameen asked, sending Bear to his bed so she could yank out the guncase she’d shoved under the couch.

“The CEO is smuggling expired drugs to Africa and Southeast Asia.”

“Bad drugs? I don’t suppose he’s gonna handling her himself. I’m assuming he’s put out a hit on her?”

“He’s got a few ex-military types on the payroll. They’ve gotten some coded messages that have pretty obvious intent. Her boss wants it to look like a botched home invasion. No survivors.”

“How many?”

“Eight-man Ranger squad. They’re no washouts either.”

Shaw hummed. “Seems a bit overkill to send eight guys after her.”

Root shrugged. “They all left the Army together and only work as a unit. Plus her boss wants it to be a sure thing.”

“Whatever. At least she’s got someone competent coming after her. Maybe this was a good idea. Tell me, how’d you manage to get the house directly across the cul-de-sac from the Wolfes?” she asked as she screwed on the barrel of her Vanquish rifle.

“Someone won an all-expenses paid cruise to the Bahamas.”

“Lucky. Just be sure to leave at least two of them for me.” Shaw swung the muzzle of the rifle to Root, peering down the just-attached scope.

Root slid down the wall and watched Sameen care for her weapons, giving Bear vigorous ear-scratches when he trotted over. “When was the last time you cleaned your guns?”

Root shrugged. “Recently enough.”

Sameen thrust a hand out, making a silent grabby motion. “You don’t trust that I can care for my own guns?”

“You can either hand them over or you’ll be the one behind the scope, not me. I’m thirty weeks pregnant; I am _not_ letting you out that door until I know your guns are in working order this close to the twins being born.”

“You know what the best thing about that statement was? You didn’t even _think_ about letting me go until you made sure I was going to be safe.” Root slid onto Sameen’s lap, wrapping her arms around the shorter brunette’s shoulders. “Let me show you how hot that is.”

\- Baby on Board -

 _“Has this really been so bad?”_ Root asked out of the blue the next night.

Shaw was seated in one of the upstairs bedrooms, bipod of her Vanquish resting on the window sill as she played overwatch for Root. Her partner being a creeper, doing some unnecessary skulking in the Wolfe’s bushes trying to get the police called or something.

Shaw flicked her gaze to the monitor that displayed the feeds from the cameras Root planted earlier in the day as she waited for the rustling bushes that filled the line to clear. “If you’re talking about spending almost two whole days in the ‘burbs, then yes, it has been exactly as horrible as I expected to be.”

_“Really? You really don’t like having neighbors you know, a yard, a neighborhood pool?”_

“I didn’t think I actually had to say this but I’m not moving out of the city.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “Oh God, you didn’t buy a house here, did you?”

_“No, I didn’t buy a house. Yet. But we do need to start looking at places.”_

“Uh, no we don’t. The twins won’t need a separate bedroom for ages. Besides, I can count the number of people other than me you tolerate on one hand, let alone like. Why in the world would you want neighbors that want to talk?”

It was just after midnight according to  the clock, the light in the master bedroom the only one left on in the Wolfe household so Shaw saw the figure that dashed across the strip of illuminated yard on one of the cams.

“Heads up, got tangos incoming. Don’t think we’re finished with this conversation though.” The Wolfe’s house was a single-story ranch, with lots of windows in the front wall and roof that gave her decent lines of fire into the house. “Two down,” she reported, putting one round in the shoulder of the ex-Ranger rounding the front corner of the house, then two in the knees of his partner behind him.

The lights flicked on a moment later, illuminating two more pistol-wielding thugs. The second went down a split second after she shot the first, Root stepping into view and throwing her a two-fingered salute. Root whirled around suddenly, making Shaw scan for another shooter before she saw their number step into view. She settled the crosshairs of her scope over Danielle, finger riding the breaking point, ready to drop her at the slightest provocation. Root put her hands up for a second right before she pushed Danielle out of the way to lay down some suppressing fire.

Root pressed Danielle against the pillar that was part of the half-wall that separated the living room and kitchen, waiting for the Machine to give her the signal to return fire. Shaw tuned the explanation Root was giving their protectee out, focusing on scanning the area for the the hostiles that had Root pinned down. Unfortunately, the fifth and sixth shooters are showing no inclination of advancing from the kitchen, leaving Shaw without a shot. The last two Rangers were still missing as well.

“Need some help down there?” Shaw asked, eying the G36C that was sitting pretty in its case.

_“Not on your life, Sameen. You stay exactly where you are. I have everything under control.”_

Shaw didn’t reply, letting Root focus on the firefight while she looked for the last two Rangers. They were really good, as good as any she’d ever met Shaw realized when the gunfire stopped. She snapped her scope over to where Root was, pistols pointed in the air. Root was looking to the back of the house where the rest of the Wolfes were coming from, all gagged and cuffed.

 _“Put your guns on the ground and tell your friend behind the sniper rifle to come and join us,_ ” one of the pair holding the Wolfe family at gunpoint instructed.

 _“Stay where you are, Sameen,”_ Root growled, earning herself a bullet to the foot.

 _“Tell her to come down now,”_  the ex-Ranger repeated.

“Don’t worry, I’m staying put,” Shaw lied, snugging her gloves, pulling her mask into place and muting her mic. She picked her G36 up, racked a round and headed to the back door. She’d memorized the Wolfe house floor plans so she knew exactly how to sneak up on the hostage-takers. Slinging her gun, Shaw grabbed the frame of the rear exterior door and kicked at it, knocking it in with her third kick.

She didn’t wait for any of the bad guys to come investigate, racing around to the side of the house where she’d disabled the first two Rangers. Crouching and rising up just enough to peek over the bottom of the window looking into the living room, she took careful aim and shot the two men that had taken their guns off the Wolfe husband and children to look in the direction of the back door.

Danielle didn’t waste an instant, rushing at her family while Root dove for her Walthers. The pair that Root had originally been exchanging fire with hadn’t moved out of the kitchen, so that just put them back to where they started.

Shaw opened the window and awkwardly climbed through, keeping low.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here? I told you to stay where you were!” Root screeched when Shaw sidled up to her.

“Yeah you did, and seeing as that was a stupid thing to say, I elected to ignore it. You already got shot once dumbass, I’m not letting you get shot again. Now, how about we put off this discussion until after we finish the mission?”

Root didn’t reply, simply firming her scowl and holding up three fingers. Shaw unhooked a flash-bang from her vest and handed it to Root along with her G36, crawling along the half-wall and around the corner. She pulled the USP Compact she had tucked at the small of her back out and waited for the grenade to go off accompanied by the full-auto spray from her rifle. The shooters thoroughly cowed, they didn’t see or hear Shaw sneak up on them until she had shot them each in their shoulder and disarmed them.

Shaw popped up over the counter, frantically patting herself down. “See? No holes, not even a skin-cell missing.”

Root jerked up from her side of the room and glared, jabbing a finger in her direction. “You stay right there.” Turning to face the number and her family, she offered them a plastic smile. “Everyone okay?”

Danielle looked up from where she had been checking her family and nodded. “Yeah, we’re all okay. You’re shot though, would you like us to call the police?”

“Go ahead, but give us an hour.”

“And what should we tell them?” Danielle’s husband asked.

“Whatever you want. There isn’t anything you could say to them that would get us in trouble.”

“If you’re sure…” Danielle said, clearly not.

“We are. Now, if there’s not anything else, we need to get going. I still have a hole in my foot that needs fixing.” Limping over to where Shaw was leaning against the counter she grabbed her elbow and frog-marched her across the street.

Root only let go of her arm once they were inside, letting Shaw slide in under her shoulder to help her to the couch. She retrieved the first aid kit stuffed under the coffee table. Root bit back on the pain as Shaw tugged her shoe off and started treating the wound.

“How long should I expect you to stay mad?”

“I don’t know, Sameen,” Root replied, leaning back into the couch and covering her face with a hand. “You’re not stupid so I’m just trying to figure out why you would put yourself in danger like that.”

“I already told you why and I was careful. If you’re gonna be mad at me for keeping you from getting hurt more than you already are then you really don’t know me as well as you think.” The bullet was a through-and-through, fortunately, doing little damage aside from the hole itself. Root winced as Shaw prodded the hole and opened her mouth to continue but Shaw didn’t let her. “And implying I would risk myself or the kids is not just insulting but aggravating too. Yeah, you’re a badass but don’t forget which of us is badder.”

“Still, you should’ve listened to me and waited, given me more than three seconds before rushing in. The Machine said-”

Shaw clenched the hand that was holding the cottonswab, causing the alcohol to drip. “One, fuck the Machine. If I see you hurt and in danger, I’m gonna do something. No one and nothing is gonna stop me. Two, how the hell would I know what the Machine said?”

“You should know because I told you to stay put which means She did the math and calculated that I could handle whatever happened.”

“Yeah, well the Machine and I have vastly different ideas of what ‘handle’ means. In any case,Her calculations need adjustment if this is what comes of them."

"I really wish you would trust Her more," Root sighed, "but I suppose that's something we'll have to agree to disagree on."

"I'm gonna keep questioning as long as I have to keep plugging," Shaw concurred, drying her foot and unrolling the bandage. “Now shut up and stop arguing with me so we can get the hell out of here.”

\- Baby on Board -

Reen Hussain lived in the same house Shaw had grown up in, a small two story colonial on the north side of Philadelphia. Root made a point of silence as Sameen sat in the passenger seat staring at the reflection of the house in the side mirror.

“Last chance to back out,” Shaw said after a couple minutes of staring.

“Not a chance, Sweetie. You’ve been delaying for weeks now, you aren’t putting this off any longer.”

Shaw sighed, popped the door and got out without warning, leaving Root to scramble a bit to keep up. The hard soles of Shaw's shoes beat a quick rhythm on the asphalt, quick enough that Root didn't have to slow her natural stride. “If she asks, I keep halal and don’t drink.”

“You want me to lie for you?”

“Trust me, it’ll be simpler this way. She hears I don’t and it will be nothing but recriminations and lectures for the rest of the day. Just do it, okay?” Root nodded and Shaw gave the door several strong raps before stepping back. Root found herself unsure, half amused that Shaw wanted her to lie to her mother, half afraid Shaw’s mother would see right through any lie she attempted.

Sameen shot her a look of mild amusement at her antsiness before she angled her elbow out without removing her hand from her pocket. Root slid her hand into the crook just as the door opened.

“Hi, _maman,”_ Shaw said quietly.

The woman who’d answered the door stood speechless for a moment before keeling backwards.

Shaw let out a quiet “shit” as she darted forward to catch the other woman before she hit the ground. “You mind?” Shaw asked, jerking her head at her feet. Root picked them up after a moment and helped Shaw lay the woman out on the couch.

“I would’ve thought your mother would be a little tougher,” Root said by the foot of the couch.

Shaw snorted. “Hold that thought and tell me what you think in an hour. I’m gonna make tea. You sit over there. The last thing my mom needs is your ugly mug right in her face when she wakes.”

Shaw pointed at a floral-patterned, overstuffed armchair by the fireplace but Root elected to take the time it took the tea to brew to examine the house. It wasn’t very big, probably would have been called cramped if it wasn’t so obviously loved so instead it was cozy. Every horizontal surface was filled with knick-knacks, trinkets, photos and other evidence of a full life lived in a single place. There were photos of Sameen and her father everywhere, ranging from before Shaw could walk to what was probably just before she joined the ISA. There were trophies and ribbons from martial arts competitions, standardized test scores and a framed flag and medals that had almost certainly been presented after Finch had faked her death.

She heard the kettle whistle and saw Shaw emerge with three teacups out of the corner of her eye. She set the photo she was examining back and accepted the cup Shaw handed her though she didn’t take a sip. Shaw knelt down and wafted the second steaming cup in front of the unconscious woman’s face. Shaw barely managed to avoid dumping the cup onto the floor when her mother sat up abruptly, eyes showing whites all around. “So I wasn’t dreaming. How is this possible?” the elder Shaw asked, hands tracing Sameen’s face with trembling fingers. before she threw her arms around Shaw’s neck. Shaw set the cup down behind her and awkwardly returned the embrace.

“Long story short, the people who I worked for, the ones I couldn’t talk about, wanted me dead. The only way to get them to back off was to make them think I was.”

“I see. What changed?” Reen asked as she took the tea Shaw had poured, regaining her composure.

“A bunch of things,” Shaw said as she rocked back on her heels and fell into the loveseat next to the couch. “But… Root, mainly. And this,” running one hand along the curve of her stomach.

Root hadn't thought Reen’s eyes could go any wider, but she was immediately proven wrong. One hand rose from her knee, apparently without thought. “You’re _pregnant?_ ” Reen asked, apparently not having noticed with Shaw’s black-on-black ensemble. Her face couldn’t seem to decide how she felt, shock, happiness, anger all flicking across her features.

Shaw nodded, raising her teacup so she didn’t have to answer. Root took this as an opportunity to introduce herself. _“Hi, Mrs. Hussain. I’m Root,”_ she said in flawless Farsi.

Sameen’s mother eyed the hand Root held out critically before she accepted it. _“What kind of name is Root? You must’ve had hippies for parents.”_

_“I chose it. I didn’t like the name I was given and it has special meaning to me.”_

“Hmph. _And what is your relationship to my daughter?_ ” she asked, voice distinctly cool as shebrought her cup to her lips.

 _“I’m Sameen’s girlfriend, ma’am,”_  Root replied as she sat next to Sameen on the loveseat.

“Are you a transsexual?” she asked, switching to English after a critical once-over.

“ _Maman_!” Shaw broke in.

“What? I’m not judging.”

“Ah, no,” Root replied, flushing at the unexpected question. “We went to a… doctor.”

“Well, my daughter has never been typical so I guess I should be happy she found someone to have children with. Although I _am_ wondering why you haven’t stepped up and made an honest woman out of my daughter. Root,” Reen said, tone acquiring an edge. “It _is_ legal for two women to get married after all.”

“It isn’t for lack of trying, ma’am. I would love for nothing more than to be able to call Sameen my wife but she has been rather resistant to the idea.”

Reen shifted her look to Shaw. “What we have works,” Sameen said into her cup. “I don’t want to ruin it by forcing something we don’t need.”

Reen not-quite-snorted again. “Well, it’s a new millennium. You can do as you like, I suppose. When are you due?”

“Another eight weeks or so.”

“Very well. You’ll have to give me your doctor’s information before you go. I am not missing my grandchild’s birth. Now, Root, tell me about yourself.”

Root shot Shaw a questioning look which Sameen replied with an utterly neutral one. “What would you like to know?”

“How about where you were born, for starters.”

Root answered Reen’s questions smoothly for the next twenty minutes, switching between English and Farsi as Reen did until she asked one question she had been hoping that wouldn’t come up.

“How did you support yourself after your mother died?”

“Tell her the truth,” Shaw said when Root shot her a questioning look.

“I… killed people. Well, had them killed. Usually.”

“I see. Can I know which branch of the government you did it for?”

“I didn't do it for the government. I was a contract killer.”

“You _were_?”

Root nodded, a wave of intense relief washing over at the emphasis of Reen’s words. “I met our current… employer around the same time I met Sam for the first time. She helped me get rehabilitated and brought me in as a sort of outside contractor at Her company.”

“And what kind of company is this mysterious benefactor running that it could use a former hitwoman? You’re not a mobster, are you?”

“No, we’re not mobsters, _maman,”_ Shaw broke in. We help people in trouble.”

“So you’re private investigators?”

“Yes, but that’s a more recent development.” Root’s answer didn’t seem to clear up the issue for Reen.

“It’s complicated,” Shaw said with a wave of her hand. “We stop people from getting killed, that’s all you need to know for now.”

Reen cast a suspicious look over the pair before relenting. “Very well. Did you ever go to college?” she asked Root.

Shaw relqxed back into the loveseat and watched in amusement as her mother spent the next forty-five minutes interrogating Root. Root’s tea grew cold, forgotten while Reen refreshed her own and Sameen’s twice.

 _“Maman,_ would you mind laying off the third degree?”

Reen sniffed. “You show up after being dead for six years, pregnant and with a girlfriend in tow; I think I’m entitled to a few questions.”

“You passed a few questions twenty minutes ago, _maman_. Root isn’t some…” It took Shaw a moment to find the appropriate adjective because even after years of exposure to Shaw’s balancing influence, the other brunette still qualified as crazy by the commonly accepted definition of the word. “She’s not gonna kill me in my sleep.”

“That’s quite the ringing endorsement,” Reen said dryly.

“Her… her crazy matches my crazy,” Shaw said after a moment.

Reen sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s the best anyone can really hope for.” Reen cast her critical gaze over Root one last time before coming to a conclusion. “You pass. You have my permission to date my daughter.”

Root looked to Shaw looking slightly less nervous but compensated with confusion. “She’s messing with you,” Sameen reassured.

That didn’t seem to lessen Root’s confusion by much but the mantlepiece over the fireplace chimed before she had the chance to speak. Reen checked the alarm on her phone that starting singing at the same time, glanced out the window and rose.

“Time for _maghrib_. I don’t suppose you’re Muslim, Root?”

“Sorry ma’am. Raised Pentecostal but I’m not religious.”

“Very well. You will wait for us to finish our prayers and then we will eat.”

Sameen followed her mother into the other room and knelt on the rug beside her. Root had to admit it was interesting to see Sameen wrap a shawl over her hair and kneel beside her mother. Shaw spoke half a dozen languages but she’d never heard her speak Arabic. This Sameen was much different from the woman she saw every day. Respect, Root decided, was the difference.

“When did you learn Farsi?” Shaw hissed under her breath as her mother disappeared into the kitchen once they’d finished.

“I’ve been having Her teach me.”

“Well, you definitely got brownie points for that. She may start to like you soon.”

“Your mom is a lot scarier than I was expecting.”

“I warned you. Her bark is worse than her bite. A lot of it is surprise. I'm sure she’ll warm up to you one she gets over her shock.”

The meal Shaw's mom served was as good as one could expect from someone related to her. Root could only think of ever having had one or two that could compare.

“Have you picked a name yet?” Reen asked as she served.

“We’ve been talking about it, but haven’t decided yet, ma’am. And it’s names. Sam’s carrying twins.”

“I see. And that’s enough with the ‘ma’am.’ If you are going to have children with my daughter, you may call me by my name.”

“Actually,” Root said hesitantly, biting her lip. “Would you mind…”

“I’m not a mind-reader, girl. Would I mind what?”

“WouldyoumindifIcalledyou _madar_?” Root asked, words almost tripping over themselves in a rush. “I told you how my mom had her problems-”

“Root,” Reen smoothly interrupted. “You may, under one condition. You must allow me to take you out to dinner soon. I would like to get to know the woman who managed to thaw my Sameen’s heart.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

“Now, you must tell me how the two of you met.”

“Don’t look at me,” Shaw said when Root did. “You’re the one who wanted to meet her _._ You get to explain how you almost got me killed.”

“In my defense, I knew exactly how capable Sameen was and there was an infinitesimal chance of her dying.”

“What exactly did you do?”

“I… sort of left her tied to a chair in a hotel… with a hit squad right outside.”

“And this is the woman you are choosing to share your life with?” Reen asked skeptically.

“Root isn’t the same person she was then. She’s much less homicidal these days.”

“Besides, she got me back,” Root said, tugging the collar of her shirt down to show her scar.

“That is not much of a comfort,” Reen responded. “You will learn that before long. Have you chosen godparents yet?”

“We have,” Root answered immediately, glad for the opportunity to give her an answer that might please the other woman. “Both longtime friends of ours and more than willing to take them in if it should be necessary.”

“It seems that there are a number of people in your life I need to meet,” Reen said.

“I’ll make sure you get an invite to the baby shower,” Shaw replied.

“Be sure you do. I would have been unhappy to learn I’d missed it.”

Sameen was the first one to finish her food and slouched back in her chair, watching as her mother shifted her questions to details about their life in NYC, where they lived, the restaurants they frequented and the like. Eventually the sun began to set and Shaw rose from her chair stretching. “Thanks for the meal, _maman_ but we need to be getting back to the city.”

“Of course,” Reen said, glancing out the window, clearly having lost track of time. “It was wonderful meeting you, Root.” Reen surprised Root by rising to her feet and enfolding the much taller woman in a hug. “I know it’s a bit out of your way just to visit, but I expect to hear from you soon.”

“Of course. And I’ll make sure you get copies of the ultrasounds in the next couple days.” The pair exchanged another hug and three more goodbyes before Shaw managed to get out the door.

Root let her head drop back against the headrest of the passenger seat in the Audi, releasing an overly drawn-out sigh. “Your mom is amazing, Sam.” Shaw gave a noncommittal grunt, trying to avoid engaging but Root wasn’t having it. “I can’t believe you didn’t want me to meet her. She’s gonna be a wonderful grandmother.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want you to meet her, it’s… We’re always getting drawn into crazy Machine bullshit. I don’t want her life getting as hectic as ours does. She’s had two heart attacks in the last year; she doesn’t need any more stress than necessary.”

“The Machine will make sure of it,” Root said in that particular way that meant she was passing something on from the Machine directly.

“Good.” Shaw hesitated a second, then moved her right hand off the stick to the side palm up. Root grinned and dropped hers into it but thankfully said nothing. “Good.”

\- Baby on Board -

“Root, you still awake?” Shaw whispered a couple hours later.

“I am now,” Root murmured from where her face was resting in the crook of her neck.

“Don’t have them call me _maman,”_ Shaw said.

“What?” Root asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Don’t have the girls call me _maman,”_ Shaw repeated.

That seemed to catch Root’s attention, the taller woman shifting to better get a look at her face. “Why?”

“Because… _maman_ means something I can never be, something that shouldn’t be devalued-”

“Stop right there,” Root said suddenly, propping herself up on an elbow and pushing on Sameen’s shoulder to roll her onto her back. “Take that thought you were having and forget it,” Root said quietly but insistently, all traces of sleep discarded. “What was it you said to the rest of the team when we told them we were pregnant? That we’re gonna be the most bitchingest moms ever?” Shaw gave a slow nod. She didn’t remember her precise phrasing, but that sounded close enough. “Well that statement hasn’t lost an iota of truth. Yeah, you’re not gonna be the exact same style of mom as yours but that’s hardly something to beat yourself up for. Are you gonna love our kids?”

“As much as I can,” Shaw hedged.

“Are you gonna do your best to make sure they grow up happy and healthy?”

“Of course.”

“Are you gonna kick anyone’s ass who tries to keep those two things from happening?”

“From here to Sunday,” Shaw said with instinctive certainty.

“And how is that any different from how your mom raised you?”

Shaw opened her mouth to start listing the hundred different ways she would never be able to measure up to her mother but the steely glint in Root’s eyes made her reconsider her answer. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Like hell it isn’t. Remember how you told me to stuff my insecurity about our relationship on the plane? Right back atcha. If I’m not allowed to be uncertain about us, you’re not allowed to question your fitness to be called _maman_.”

Shaw wanted to argue the point, felt like she should but she also knew that there was no budging Root when she got that look in her eyes. “Fine,” Shaw relented. “Now go back to sleep.” Shaw rolled back onto her side, away from Root.

“You’re the one that woke me up,” Root murmured, the smirk loud in her tone. Shaw felt the bed shift as Root rolled over to go back to sleep as well. Sleep wasn’t so easy to recapture though, the mattress behind her feeling discomfitingly wrong. She gave the attempt up as a bad job after ten minutes of trying to calm the ants filling her veins, rolling onto her back for a moment so she could grab Root’s arm and tug on it.

“Don't say anything,” Shaw murmured as she finally got Root in close behind her, twining their fingers together over her belly.

“Love you,” Root whispered instead, breath washing over the short hairs on her neck and doing absolutely nothing to quell the wormy-squirmy mass that had been keeping her awake in the first place. Squeezing her eyes closed for a moment, she let go of the hand resting on her stomach just long enough to reach back and cup the back of Root’s head so she could mash their mouths together in a quick, hard kiss.

 _‘Let her go right back to sleep after that,’_ Shaw thought to herself as she returned to her original position.


	8. Month the Eighth - Conversations

“What the  _hell_  is this?” Shaw demanded, storming into the command area of the Library and hurling her phone at Root. The hacker barely caught the device before it brained her and paled a bit when she saw the image on the screen.

It was a picture of Shaw in profile, in their kitchen, holding a pan and spatula. The metadata indicated that it had been taken and uploaded earlier that morning.

“Looks innocent enough, Ms. Shaw,” Harold said peering over Root’s shoulder. “It’s hardly uncommon for someone to want to document their partner’s pregnancy.”

“And normally I wouldn’t give a shit except she’s been posting them on Instagram. You’re taking them down,” Shaw said in a tone that brooked no discussion.

“How’d you even find out about this?” Root asked.

“I got an alert that I’d been tagged. Seriously Root, how’d you think I’d be okay with this?”

“Well, you’re not exactly active on social media so I didn’t think there was much of a chance you’d even find out.”

“It amazes me how you can simultaneously be one of the smartest  _and_  dumbest people on Earth.”

“Well, you can’t make me take them down. I have like, three thousand followers. You wouldn’t want me to disappoint my fans?”

“More like my fans, seeing as you only have pictures of me on your account.” Shaw’s scowl didn’t lessen but she didn’t immediately reiterate her demand.

“Ms. Shaw, if I may ask, is it the fact that Root has been posting pictures of you online, or that she has been doing it without your knowledge that is the cause of your… irritation?” Finch swiveled in his chair, maintaining a nonplussed expression when Shaw shifted her glare to him.

“I don’t really see how that’s relevant.”

“I do,” Root disagreed.

“You shut up. You don’t get a say in this seeing how you’re the one who started it,” Shaw growled, jabbing a finger in her direction.

“I don’t think this is fair,” Root said with a slouch and a pout.

“Don't even try that, your pout is not gonna get you out of trouble this time.”

“Did you even look at the pictures before you got mad? It’s not like I posted any titpics. I think they were quite tasteful.”

Shaw started to issue another disgruntled protest but fell silent when Finch spoke. “Your displeasure regarding the secrecy in which Root conducted her photojournalistic endeavors is quite understandable, may I make a suggestion? Perhaps review the entire album before coming to a decision?”

‘ _Don’t be stubborn Sameen,’_  the Machine piped up, words pixelating on a blanked screen.

Shaw growled, shifting her glare between the three of them. “Fine,” she said, unfolding her arms and flopping down in her pregnancy Laz-E-Boy.

One of the blank screens flicked on and blurred through several windows before settling on the webpage bearing Root’s album. There were over two hundred images, one picture taken a day if the count was any indication. It was actually pretty impressive how Root had managed to photograph her without her once catching her in the act. And despite what she wanted to think, they actually were pretty good. Whether she was sleeping in bed, cooking in the kitchen or backlit by the setting sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows that was the back wall of the main living area, Root had somehow managed to make each look like she was modeling for a photoshoot instead of the candid shots they were.

“They aren’t horrible,” Shaw begrudgingly allowed when the slideshow was finished. She hadn’t honestly thought Root was lying to her but the difference between what Root thought a thing was and what it actually was could bridge oceans. The comments were of the same opinion, sans the occasional one who didn’t believe they weren’t prearranged photos.

Shaw immediately wished she had lied when Root’s grin threatened to take in her ears. “So I can keep it?”

Shaw got up, pushing Root’s arm away. “No more shots in the bedroom.”

“Deal,” Root replied instantly, swooping in to give her a peck on the cheek that Shaw blocked with a palm. “I’m still annoyed with you though. Don’t push it.” Root opened her mouth to say something to do just that but snapped it shut when Shaw glared at her. “And you’re buying me Parks.”

Root frowned, glancing at the clock. “The line’s gonna be like half an hour,” she complained as she followed Shaw towards the stairs. Shaw raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘so?’ and Root relented with one of her smirky-smiley-sighs. “The things I do for love.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Don’t even act like it’s a burden for you. You love doing shit for me.”

“True,” Root said, taking her elbow as they descended the stairs. “That the Rowland case?” Shaw asked when Root pulled a netbook out of the bag between her legs when she pulled away from the curb.

“Mhm. Leon thinks he figured out what his brother has been doing with the money.”

“So what has he been doing with it?” Shaw asked when Root showed no sign of elaborating.

“Buying stocks. Owns parts of a lot of random stuff, a cruise line, a prosthetics manufacturer, a club…”

“So definitely not broke.”

“Nope. And not really doing a very good job at hiding it for a CPA.”

Shaw grunted. “Never complain when a bad guy is bad at crime. If nothing else, it’s easy money.”

“Speak for yourself, Sweetie. This is New York; there’s a certain expectation of skill that goes along with being a criminal here.”

“Root, this isn’t Gotham and you’re not the Joker. Anyone who believes smart criminals are better than dumb criminals is a moron and you are no moron so shut up.”

“I could be the Joker. I’d make a really good Joker. You could be my Harley.”

“Not on your life.”

“So I’m guessing that’s a no on the family Halloween costumes?”

Shaw didn’t dignify that with a response, simply parking the car and jabbing a finger at the sandwich truck. Root leaned in to peck her on the cheek and ducked out.

\- Baby on Board -

Zoe Morgan considered the unmarked key in her hand. It had been couriered to her office at Shaw Spy Services in a blank envelope just before her phone had chimed with a new appointment and shopping list in her calendar. She was sitting in her chauffeured town car debating whether to enter the building she was sitting in front of, though she knew she was. There were only two people who would’ve sent her something so anonymously and Root wasn’t picking up.

There was some generic action music playing through the door when she pulled out the key, examining it again for a moment before she stuck it in the lock. She stepped quietly on the hardwood until she saw a movie on the screen of the large tv she saw around the corner

Joss and Shaw were sitting on the couch before the tv, Joss sitting up and reaching for the gun on the coffee table before she saw who it was. “Get a mysterious key and appointment?” Zoe asked.

“Mhm. The Machine, I guess,” Joss agreed.

“I’m shooting one of the servers in the subway after this,” Shaw growled, slouched down on the couch and looking particularly surly. A phone rang, Britney Spears ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’ blaring from the speakers. Zoe caught a glimpse of Root’s image before Shaw flicked the ‘decline’ button.

“Ah, that kind of appointment then.” She headed to the kitchen at Joss’ subtle hand gestures.

“Root’s off limits. Shaw won’t say what she did, but…”

“So what should I expect, tears, hugging?” Zoe set the plastic bag she was carrying in one hand on the counter, opening the freezer to put the ice cream in it.

“Not yet, but who knows?” Joss shrugged. “But bring the Cherry Garcia.”

“You two done gossiping?” Shaw asked when the two women dropped down on the couch with her, prying the top of the pint of Ben & Jerry’s off.

Zoe kicked her shoes off under the coffee table in front of them and found Bruce Willis on the tv. “What’s this?”

“Good Day to Die Hard. Only one I haven’t seen yet.”

“Are you looking at minivans?” Zoe asked, seeing the listings Shaw had up on her tablet. Shaw’s phone lit up again, and Shaw hung up again just as quickly.

“Not minivans specifically. Kid’s seats don’t fit on the back of a motorcycle. And its a present. For Root,” Shaw continued as she hung up on Root, again. She shifted her tablet to fit the ice cream between her legs, digging a large spoonful out.

“Does she know she’s getting a new car?” Joss asked.

“Of course not. It’s gonna be waiting for her at the hospital after the kids are born.”

“And her bike?”

“I’ll have it put in storage or something. Not permanently, just until she fully appreciates the situation.”

“You think she doesn’t? I’ve heard you have her on a pretty short leash these days.”

Shaw snorted. “Zoe, first of all, how short of a leash do you think it is if she’s bragging about it?”

“I’m not sure I’d call it bragging.”

“What was the expression on her face when she was ‘complaining’ to you?”

“Point,” Zoe said after a contemplative moment, causing Joss to snigger.

“Of course, when doesn’t Root have a grin on her face when talking about Shaw?”

“Also point,” Zoe agreed. “Oh, this one has fold-away seats,” she said pointing to one of the listings. “Gives you more cargo space for the girl's sports stuff when they pick up lacrosse or something.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have a rear-view camera,” Joss pointed out. “That’s something you want if you guys ever get a place with a driveway. Don't want to be running over their toys.”

Shaw made a face at that. “You two haven’t said anything about moving to her have you?”

“No,” Joss said inquisitively. “Has she?”

“She made a comment when we were in Yonkers. I told her I wasn't moving out of the city but…”

“She’s Root,” Zoe finished.

“Exactly. So don’t encourage her. You catch her shopping, you shut that shit down.”

Joss rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. “Sure,” Zoe agreed when Shaw looked at her.

“I signed up to babysit your kids, not your babydaddy, just so you know,” Joss added.

“Hey, I'm asking for a heads-up, not to be her keeper.”

“Well, I’m getting thirsty,” Zoe said pushing herself to her feet. “Do you still have alcohol?”

“Root still drinks,” Shaw said around a mouthful of ice cream. “There should be some red wine in the fridge.”

“Want a cup, Joss?”

Joss nodded. “And get me one of the shakes with the pink caps,” Shaw said.

“What are those?” Zoe asked when she returned, sitting next to Carter and pouring them both wine.

“Some health smoothie thing the clinic gives out. They aren't half bad.” Shaw twisted the top off and dumped it in her ice cream.

“What flavor is that?”

“Peach,” Shaw answered, mixing the two together and Zoe made a face.

Her phone rang, Root yet again and Shaw hung up on her for the third time.

“You know, she’s probably not going to stop until you pick up,” Zoe said offhandedly.

“Which is why I’m doing this,” Shaw replied, showing her the shut-down good-by message on her phone.

“Okay, so I know this is probably a bad idea, but what  _did_  Root do? I’ve known you guys for a while and I’ve never seen you actually mad at her. And certainly never not pick up for her.”

Shaw looked over at Joss and sighed when she looked just as curious. She was saved by having to answer when the movie paused, a Skype notification popping up on the screen. Shaw reached for the remote but the green ‘yes’ button flashed before she touched it.

Root’s face was slightly distorted on the seventy-two-inch tv, more so because of the decidedly cross expression she wore. “So you’re not dead, that’s nice to know. Hi Jocelyn, Zoe.”

“Oh, don't you even start with me; I’m not the one who turned her phone off in the middle of a case.”

Root let out an exasperated sigh. “For the last time, having you call me every five minutes was not helping me get close to the target. I told you I was going to run into Stevens at his regular bar ‘by chance’; I told you what I was going to do and when I was going to be back. I don't know what more you want of me.”

“You know what I want; stop calling until you can get that through your head.” Shaw didn’t give Root the chance to reply, exiting the app with a sharp jab of her finger.

“Wow, you really are mad at her,” Carter said, sounding genuinely surprised.

“It’s nothing she doesn’t deserve.”

“You know, if I didn't know better, I’d say you sounded jealous,” Zoe said, fighting a grin.

“I don’t get jealous,” Shaw snapped.

“But you sound jealous,” Carter needled.

“You two aren’t gonna drop this now, are you?”

“And miss the chance to find out what turns Sameen Shaw’s gaze green? Not a chance,” Zoe’s smirk was a full grin now and only made Shaw scowl harder and shove another spoon of dairy in her mouth.

“Root’s been getting… flirty.”

“With people other than you,” Carter guessed.

“With anything with two legs and a pulse. You know the con artist we’d been going after? Root let him take her back to his apartment.”

“And she slept with him?” That caught Zoe off guard; Root’s gay could be seen from orbit.

“No, she drugged him and unstole all the money and sent the evidence to money crimes guys.”

“So you’re saying Root did her job, closed the case, and you’re mad at her because she played a role?” Carter asked. Shaw didn’t reply, slouching lower, sucking on her spoon. “Did you tell her why you’re mad?” Shaw gave a reluctant, silent nod. “Did she apologize?” Shaw just glared at the tv.

Zoe let out a short bark of a laugh. “So you’re straight-up in unreasonable-pregnant-woman-mode.”

“It’s not my job to be reasonable,” Shaw muttered. That made Zoe laugh again and Joss sigh good-naturedly.

“You know hormones aren’t an unlimited get out of jail free card.”

“Says who, Carter? She’s the reason my hormones are all out of whack, she can deal with the consequences.”

“And think about who we’re talking about. You can't say Root wouldn’t enjoy whatever punishment Shaw decided on, in all likelihood.”

Zoe turned to grin at Sameen over Joss, then pouted when Shaw just continued to glare at the tv. “Jesus, you’re in a mood. Is there anything we do to get you to do anything but pout and growl?”

“Get me the mint-chocolate chip and the Indian in the take-out container,” Shaw said, thrusting the empty ice cream container at her.

Zoe rolled her eyes but got up anyways. “Where is Root anyways?”

“Montana, or one of the Dakotas, I think. Securing storage space for the Machine’s backups or something. Don't really care.” Shaw dug out two scoops of the black-flecked green dessert and dropped them into the box of curry.

“God your appetite is disgusting. How in the world does that not turn your stomach?”

“One of life’s mysteries,” Shaw mumbled around her food.

“Know when she’s gonna be back? This sour mood of yours won't be good for you if it lasts long.”

“And how long did your moods last when you were pregnant? Even odds I’m gonna want to fuck her brains out or beat them in tomorrow. I’ve long since stopped trying to fight my body when it decides to be pissy or weepy or horny.”

“And what if Root comes back mad for ignoring her?” Zoe asked.

“How long have you known her?

“Three, four years?”

“And in all that time, how many times have you seen her mad at me?” Zoe thought for a moment but Shaw continued before she answered. “’Cause I can count them on one hand and I’ve known her way longer.”

“Everyone has their limits, Shaw, even Root.”

“Haven’t found them yet.”

“Keep looking and you’ll find them sooner than you like I think.”

“Well, that’s a me-and-Root problem then.” Shaw refocused on the movie and sighed when she realized she’d lost the plot. She glanced at the clock and saw it was closer to twelve than eleven. “I’m going to bed. You two can let yourselves out."

Shaw pushed herself to her feet with a long groan and shuffled off without another word.

"Finish the bottle?'

Joss shook her head. "I have work in the morning. And I gotta drive. "

"Lucky for me I have a car service," Zoe said and refilled her cup. "I can give you a ride home if you want."

"It is good wine," Joss said after a moment, holding her wineglass out.

"The expensive stuff always is," Zoe agreed.

"How much do you think it cost?"

"A hundred bucks at least, if it was a penny."

"I suppose you'd know. I don't usually spend more than half that even for a good bottle."

"Shame. Although frugality is hardly the worst thing, especially on a cop's salary."

"You make it sound like I’m a pauper. I  _am_  a police lieutenant you know.”

“I know I was just saying I have more to spend than you do, especially as a single mom. Kids are expensive, or so I've heard."

"You've heard correctly. Probably could've bought me a Lamborghini or two with what I've spent on clothes and toys and doctor's visits and I only have one."

"Well, Root's richer than both us together so they'll probably be able to afford both the Lambo and Harvard or Cambridge or wherever they end up wanting to go.”

“Don’t remind me. Whoever said crime doesn't pay clearly never met Root,” Carter agreed.

“To be fair, she was an above average criminal. I’ve seen her rap sheet.”

“On the other hand, she’s dating  _Shaw._ That alone is punishment for anything she’s done.”

Zoe giggled. “Yeah. Can you imagine actually living with either one?”

“No. I’m just glad the found each other because I’d have to hook up with Root.”

“Not Shaw?” Zoe asked, refilling their glasses.

“Between the two of them, which one leaps before she looks?”

“Good point. And thanks for volunteering to be Root’s rebound girl if Shaw ever kicks it.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Carter groaned, rolling her head to rest on the back of the sofa.

“Why? Worried one of them would do something like what John did when Simmons put you in the hospital?”

“Sure, except you know, worse. You saw how Root got when Samaritan snatched Shaw; how do you think Root would react if someone actually killed her? Fortunately, Shaw only has another couple of weeks until she’s due, so the city’s almost out of the woods.”

Zoe snorted. ”I laugh but I know exactly what you mean.”

Carter finished her wine with one last swallow. “I need to be getting home. You ready?”

Zoe emptied the bottle into her glass and finished it off. “Am now.”

\- Baby on Board -

“John!” Shaw yelled from where she was reclined in her Laz-E-Boy, rolled up parallel to Finch’s battlestation. “JOHN!” Shaw yelled again, louder, when he didn’t immediately appear. She was getting ready to yell a third time when he came from the direction of the armory.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, alarm showing on his face.

“My feet hurt. Rub them,” Shaw said imperiously, pointing at aforementioned appendages.

“Ah-” he began, but Shaw cut him off.

“Rub. Them,” Shaw repeated, glaring at him and lifting a foot.

Pulling a chair over, he reached but Shaw stopped him, pointing at a bottle on a nearby shelf. “Lotion first,” Shaw instructed again.

Her feet were swollen and throbbing and her ankles cracked every time she rolled them so feeling John’s strong fingers rubbing circles on the soles felt inordinately good.

“You okay there John?” Root asked with a smirk when she turned up half an hour later. Shaw’s feet were on his lap and she had pulled her shirt up over her stomach so she could rub lotion over her stretch marks.

John was looking distinctly uncomfortable with both the amount of skin Sameen was showing and the limbs in his lap. “Care to take over?”

Root’s grin stayed firmly in place as she slid into the chair and accepted Shaw’s legs, setting a brown paper bag on the arm of the chair. “So you and John were looking pretty cozy.”

“I’m not sure cozy is the word he’d use,” Shaw said as she dug through the pile of burritos in the bag. “John!” John poked his head back out around and Shaw chucked a beef burrito at him. He gave her a confused look. “You haven’t had anything to eat since you got here this morning.”

“Thanks,” John said after a moment and disappeared again.

When Shaw glanced at Root, her grin was close to taking in her ears. “Woman…” Shaw groaned.

“What? I’m just admiring your motherly impulses. You can't get mad at me every time you do something attractive and I notice.”

“Are you ever not gonna get turned on whenever I do something simple?”

“I dunno, maybe in a decade or three.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Perhaps, but you wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?”

“You’d be boring any other way, so I guess not.”

“Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Professor Whistler is at class for the next,” Shaw reached over to flick a mouse and wake a monitor up. “Hour and a half. Carter and Fusco are staking out our number. They should be checking-in any time now.”

The words had barely left her mouth when a window popped up on one of the secondary monitors.  _‘Hey, Shaw, any progress on figuring out where that jet fuel has been going yet?’_

“Evaporating, for all I can tell. No significant surpluses or deficits at any of the private strips I can find.”

The sound of Fusco crunching came over the speakers. “ _What about heliports or marinas? Can speedboats use jet fuel? Or auto shops? There was a heist crew that’d seen one too many_ Fast and Furious _movies using the stuff a couple years back.”_

“Nothing like that’s popping off Finch’s algorithms. Whatever he’s doing, he’s hiding it really well.”

“I’d almost be impressed if he wasn’t likely building a bomb.”

“ _Possible, but I’m looking at the city’s threat matrix and I’m not seeing anything happening in the next forty-eight that Kelly would need a hundred gallons of aviation fuel to blow up.”_

“ _If he was using the stuff to make a bomb, shouldn’t that go to the Relevant side?”_ Fusco asked, still chomping loudly.

“Only if it’s a national security thing,” Shaw reminded him. “If the dude is only gonna take out a bus depot or something, that’s not something Control’s gonna give a shit about.”

“ _Well it’s something_ I  _care about,”_ Carter insisted.  _“We don’t have the luxury of picking and choosing what criminals we apprehend.”_

“We’re up on his phone, email… Just a matter of time before he goes somewhere or talks to someone who knows something. It’s already been thirty hours since the Machine gave us his number; whatever he’s planning it has to be happening soon.”

“Well if it happens after five tonight, Reese and Fusco will have to handle it on their own.”

“Root, what did you do?” Shaw asked slowly, a distinct edge to her voice.

“Your mom’s coming over for dinner. You and Zoe are invited, Carter.”

“ _Shaw has a mother?”_  Fusco asked.  _“You mean she didn’t spring out of a hole thirty years old?”_

“Bite me, Fusco,” Shaw growled.

“ _Should I bring anything?”_ Carter asked.

“A bottle of red. Maybe dessert, a cheesecake or something.”

“ _I’ll pick something up on the way over.”_

“Good to hear. We’re picking her up at the bus terminal half past five, so see you at six?”

“See you at six then. We’ll let you know if anything pops in the meantime.”

The connection closed and Root continued to massage Sameen’s feet, ignoring the stare that was boring into the side of the head. “When are you going to start being honest with me?”

”What do you mean? I haven’t lied to you about anything!”

“Yeah, but you haven’t exactly been forthcoming either. Why didn’t you talk to me about having  _Maman_  over?”

“I… was afraid you’d try to stop me.”

“Jesus, you’re a goddamn dumbass,” Shaw growled, throwing her bottle of moisturizer at Root. “ _Why_ would I try to stop you? She knows I’m alive, knows I’m pregnant. Keeping her at arm's length isn’t really an option anymore.”

Root winced. “I know and I’m sorry.”

“Is this gonna be a thing with you? Because this… we only work if we’re completely, one-hundred percent honest with each other. Keeping secrets isn’t gonna push me away, it’s just gonna make me mad.”

Root hung her head and sighed. "I know that. Like, I I know it in my head but my heart feels otherwise.”

“That’s something we gotta fix then. We can’t raise kids together if we’re hiding things from each other.”

“I  _know,_  babe. For most of my life, the instinct to not talk was something that was firmly in the ‘pro’ column. We’ve never been a normal couple, even before we lived and worked together. Neither of us are the talkative type, or the type of couple who has to share everything.”

“I'm not asking for everything, I'm asking for the important stuff, the stuff that affects both of us.” Shaw hesitated a moment. “But... I get what you mean."

"I'll try to do better."

"That's all I can ask for. But if we’re gonna be having all these people over, we’re gonna need to pick up supplies for the party. I haven’t done a food run this week, so you can drop me off at the store and go to pick up  _Maman_.” Shaw made a face at smirk Root threw her way. “You’re such a freak. Who the hell gets turned on by grocery shopping?”

“I thought we’d been over this, Sweetie.  _Everything_ you do turns me on. Besides, why are you complaining? It’s hardly like you suffer.”

“I’m not complaining I’m just saying you’re a weirdo.”

“What would your mother think, calling the other mother of your children names?”

“I’d tell her it’s not name-calling if it’s the truth.” Shaw reached over to open the line to the whole team. “Who thinks Root’s a weirdo?” The line remained silent. Shaw could practically hear the confused and amused expressions the team wore.

“ _Is this a trick question?”_  Fusco asked.

“What does that mean?” Root huffed.

“ _That means yes, Root,”_ Carter said wryly.  _“Why are you asking, Shaw?”_

“Just proving a point,” Shaw said, shooting Root a smirk. “I mentioned grocery shopping and she started drooling.”

 _"What’s weird about that? I’ve tasted your cook-”_ Shaw heard the soft, unmistakable  _thud_  of a punch and Fusco groan.  _“Right, not about cooking.”_

That caused Root to shoot Shaw a smirk for some reason. “See? He understands.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not what he was saying.”

“Sounded like he was to me,” Root rebutted. Shaw rolled her eyes and gave up. There wasn’t anything she’d be able to say to say at this point to win the argument.

She glanced at the clock on the monitor again. “We should probably get going. I have a lot of food to cook, and you have to pick up my mother.”

“She’s not gonna get here for hours yet,” Root protested.

“Yeah well, trains sometimes get in early, and you are not leaving  _Maman_  to wander around Grand Central Station by herself.”

Root briefly debated disputing the factualness of that statement (the Machine informing her American trains were three times more likely to be late than early,) but decided to let Shaw have the win.

Root put Shaw’s socks and shoes on, then helped her out of the recliner and wrapped an arm around her waist as they made it to the stairs.

\- Baby on Board -

Root hadn’t given her much time to prepare the veritable feast that was required to feed all of them, four hours minus a few minutes. Root dropped her off at the bodega down the street from their penthouse to collect supplies for the meal. She wasn’t going for anything fancy, spaghetti and meatballs, an easy recipe easy to scale. However, her culinary sensibilities and the impending arrival of her mother wouldn’t let her use premade meatballs and sauce. Part of the reason why they’d picked their apartment was the proximity to Delmar’s and it’s always-fresh supply of meat and produce. She gave the owner a nod as he waved when she entered, dropping a basket in the crook of her elbow.

It didn’t take her long to collect what she needed, noodles, ground beef, tomatoes, whole and chopped and a few herbs they were running low on, as well as four bottles of ground parmesan. “Hey, Shaw. Got company?” Diego Delmar asked.

“Wish I didn’t,” she groused as she emptied her basket onto the counter.

“Family?”

“Yeah.”

“Yours or hers?”

“Mine.”

“I’ll say a prayer anyways,” he said with a grin far too boyish for his age.

“Thanks,” she said dryly as he bagged her stuff. She reached for the bag, but he pulled it away.

“And what do you think you’re doing? There’s no way I’m going to let you carry this all the way to your apartment in your condition. TOMMY! Get over here and carry the lady’s groceries for her!” Shaw glared at Delmar which he weathered evenly.

Tommy was Delmar’s son, fifteen and a head taller than her. He tossed his apron over the counter to his father and took her bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Tommy Delmar took one stride for every two of hers yet didn’t outpace her. He was quiet on the walk over to her pleasure and didn’t argue when she reclaimed her groceries at the door.

She was sliding her second tray of meatballs into the oven when she heard the door open behind her. She heard Root’s heels and the softer footsteps of her mother. Sure enough, when she turned around both women were standing by the door, Root hanging her jacket and Reen’s heavier coat on the rack.

Reen rushed over the moment she saw her in the kitchen, grabbing the oven mitts protecting Shaw’s hands, sliding them off and all but yanking the tray away. “Sameen! What are you doing on your feet? You need to be resting this late in your pregnancy.”

“ _Maman_ , I’m perfectly fine,” Shaw said, exasperation and annoyance twining through her voice.

“Nonsense,” Reen brushed her off with a no-nonsense tone. “Go sit down while I finish up here.” Shaw frowned but let Root pull her over to the couch.

“Did she say how long she was staying?” Shaw asked, suddenly noticing the suitcases set by the door.

“Until the girls get here, of course.”

“And did you invite her to stay?”

“No. She had her bags with her when I picked her up.”

“That’s something at least.”

“I was expecting a little more grump from you about this.”

“Perhaps, if I didn’t know how badly  _Maman_  was gonna chew you out later.”

“Why would she do that?”

Shaw smirked. “Because she is a perfectionist and queen of the home makers. Trust me when I say she’s gonna have all kinds of problems with our situation. Starting with how you’re letting me on my feet at all. I’m sure she’d prefer if you didn’t let me out of the apartment except for doctor’s visits and make me use a wheelchair outside that door.”

Root didn’t quite frown, but she did shoot a look over her shoulder to where she could see Reen over the bar. “You think just because you’ve been talking on the phone some you’re gonna be besties? Oh, I’m gonna love this.”

“You just wait, Sameen. You just wait and see what a great job she thinks I’ve been doing.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Reen called from the kitchenette. "This kitchen looks like Sameen cooks. You should be the one to have her food ready for her."

"Sameen is a much better cook than I am. And she has more time."

"And why does she have more time?" Reen asked her, turning to give her a disapproving look through the gap in the wall for the bar, hand holding the sauce-stained wooden spoon resting on her hip.

"I’m sort of working two jobs at the moment."

That didn't seem to satisfy Reen. "First being taking of Sameen of course,"

"Three jobs then. As much as I'd love to do nothing but pamper Sameen twenty-four-seven, my work is essential to national security."

Reen’s arched eyebrow made it clear she was taking that with a grain of salt. “No, it is, mostly,” Shaw confirmed.

Reen hummed. “I know better than to ask who you work for, but as long as it isn’t those horrible people who tried to kill Sameen, I suppose it doesn’t really matter.” Reen looked over again when neither of them replied, frowning. “Sameen, she  _isn’t_  working with those people, is she?”

“Only when she has to,” Shaw said, struggling to her feet to put herself between her mother and Root when the elder ‘Shaw’ rounded the bar, wielding the wooden spoon in a threatening manner.

“This is not okay,” Reen said. “She is supposed to be watching out for you and your children, not working for the people who almost killed you.”

“She works with them, not for them, and  _only when she has to_ ,” Shaw repeated. “I’m okay with it which means you gotta be okay with it too.”

“It absolutely does  _not_ mean I have to be okay with it,” Reen disagreed, glaring over Sameen’s shoulder at Root. “They tried to kill you, baby girl.”

“ _Maman,_  stop,” Shaw demanded, pushing her back a bit. “Just stop. You don’t like some of the things she’s done, I get that. Fine, whatever. But she’s not going anywhere so you need to get with the program.”

Reen continued to glare at Root for another couple of seconds before she retreated to the kitchen. Shaw flopped down beside Root with a huff. “My hero,” Root husked, grinning.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m such a hero for standing up to my mother. I’m not sixteen, Root. Telling my mom no isn’t such a big deal.”

“It’s still admirable, even if you don’t think so.”

“Well I have a feeling you’re gonna have plenty of chances to admire me. Somehow, I doubt  _Maman_  means to leave after the girls are born.”

“That would probably be a safe guess,” Root agreed. “She doesn’t seem to like me as much in person as she did over the phone.”

“No surprise there. I could barely stand you when we first met. Certainly doesn’t help she learned about those particular circumstances.”

“Still kinda sucks. I really wanted her to like me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it overmuch. You’ll have plenty of chances to earn her goodwill back when I tell her about the next dozen times you personally pull my ass out of the fire.”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t think we should work together going forward.”

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. It sounded like you don’t want to work together anymore.”

“It’s not that I don't want to work together, but we have to think about more than ourselves now. Some parents don’t even fly together, we…” Root reached to take Shaw’s hand. “God forbid, if we were both killed on a mission… I can’t bear the thought of leaving our daughters orphans. One of us must always be there for them.”

Shaw put her other hand on the on top of Root’s. “I hear what you’re saying and I don’t disagree. But let’s just worry about making sure they get here safe and sound before anything else. We can talk about it as much as you want after.”

\- Baby on Board -

The deadbolt rattled a few minutes shy of six, Carter letting herself and Zoe in with the key the Machine had provided her. The primary residents were nowhere to be seen, but an elderly woman with streaks of gray in her bun was in the kitchen and looked over when they entered.

“You would be Jocelyn Carter and Zoe Morgan, I assume?”

“And you must be Reen,” Carter greeted in turn. “Where’s Root and Shaw?”

“Sameen was looking tired so I told her to go lay down.”

“You told her to go lay down and she just did it?” Zoe asked skeptically.

“Of course; she knows better than to argue with her mother. Dinner’s ready. Are we expecting anyone else, or should I go get my daughter?”

“It’s just us,” Carter confirmed.

“The meatballs are keeping warming in the microwave; pull them out while I go get the girls.”

Carter did as asked, putting on a pair of oven mitts and retrieved the plate stacked high with the meatballs. There was a large pot of noodles in the oven, she pulls that out too and adds a bit of the sauce simmering on the stove to keep them from sticking together.

Zoe gets the Parmesan cheese from the refrigerator and starts plating the food. Shaw shuffled out a moment later and accepted the plate of spaghetti without a word. They didn't have much in the way of furniture, limited to the small round breakfast table that Shaw had brought when she’d moved in, the couch in front of the tv and an overstuffed recliner, and four chairs. The table was barely big enough for Shaw’s meals, let alone the five of them, so they spread out through the room. Shaw was in her recliner, plate balanced on her stomach with Root perched on the arm, while the other three women sat on the couch.

“So I’ve heard a great deal about how Root and my daughter met, but very little about the women who are going to be my grandchildren’s godmothers.”

“How much do you know about how we first met?” Carter asked cautiously.

“I know you started out trying to arrest your boyfriend, a John Reese, if I’ve been told correctly. The same man that got you out of a sticky situation with the vice president of some drug company?”

“That’s the short of it,” Zoe confirmed.

“Who, according to Root, you dated for a while as well.”

“I wouldn’t call it dating, exactly,” Zoe corrected.

“In any case, Root has given me a full accounting of the events since Sameen had to fake her death.” Root gave the pair a very clear ‘no’ signal, chopping her hand in front of her throat. “I know you’re a police detective, Ms. Carter, but Root has been pretty vague on how you support yourself, Ms. Morgan.”

“I do a lot of different things,” Zoe said, hedging.

“Please,” Reen said unimpressed. “I’m no shrinking violet. I know what my daughter did after she was kicked out of her residency.”

“Well, I guess you could say I do the same basic thing Shaw and Root do. I fix problems for people; my solutions just involve fewer bullets than theirs.”

“It’s good to hear that someone in my daughter’s orbit solves her problems with something other than guns. Don’t get me wrong, there are people who need the sharp end of the stick, I know this. And I’ve read about the people you’ve helped,” Reen said, looking over to Shaw. “You brought down corrupt cops, businesses, more criminals I can count. I’m proud of you for that. I just don’t want my granddaughters to think that violence solves everything.”

“It solves most things,” Shaw disagreed through a mouthful of noodles.

“At least some things never change,” Reen said to no one in particular. “One thing I have been wondering is where your baby things are. There isn’t even a room prepared yet.”

The two non-Shaw women exchanged a look. “We’ve been a little busy,” Joss hedged.

Reen gave her a thoroughly unimpressed look. “And what is my daughter supposed to do when her children are here and her home isn’t ready? I understand you are friends with Root and Sameen, but they need more than friends for their godmothers.”

“ _Maman_  don’t dick around. Y'all gotta start stepping up.”

Shaw’s smirk quickly changed to a frown when Reen turned to her. “You aren’t off the hook, Sameen. These two are your babies godmothers, but you're their mother. If they’re not up to organizing your baby shower, then you to need to pick up their slack.”

“We have things in hand,  _Maman._  I’m not due for another five weeks and then I’m gonna be in the hospital for a couple days at least.”

Reen sniffed. “If you insist. I just hope you plan on being more on top of things in the future.”

The doorbell rang and everybody stopped for a moment. “Are we expecting anyone else?” Shaw asked the room at large. Nobody replied so Carter, who was sitting closest to the door got up to answer it. She was surprised to find the heavyset woman known as Control standing in the hallway, a pair of men in suits lurking down the hall.

“What are you doing here?” Joss asked with as little emotion as she could manage.

“Looking for your coworker. This is where Ms. Shaw lives if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re mistaken,” Joss said, closing the door.

Control stuck her hand between the door and the doorframe, using her superior weight to bulldoze her way into the apartment, gathering the attention of everyone in the room. “Sorry for the intrusion, Ms. Shaw, but I’m here on a matter of some urgen…cy… You’re… pregnant,” Control said, drawing up short, displeasure and surprise clear.

Shaw swallowed her mouthful of spaghetti and looked to Control. “Yep. And what’s it to you?”

“I came here hoping to get both your assistance with a delicate matter, but your partner’s help will have to do.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen.” Everyone turned to look at her. “Like hell I’m letting you drag Root off to some shithole with just over a month until I’m due.”

“Ms. Shaw, this is a matter critical to national security. Your partner and her connection to the Machine is absolutely vital to the successful completion of this mission.”

“And I’m telling you find someone else. I don’t care if there’s a nuke about to go off in DC, you are not sending Root off this close to our kids being born. Okay,” she continued when Joss gave her a look, “I do care if there’s a nuke in DC, but you’re still not taking her.”

“Sweetie-”

“Don’t even, Root. You’re not going, end of story.”

“You’ve changed, Agent Shaw. You never used to be this selfish.”

“I didn’t have twins on the way before.”

“Regardless, Agent Shaw, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other recourse. We need the Machine and that means we need Root."

"As flattered as I am, I do wonder what could possibly be going on that you need Her to intervene?”

“I can’t reveal that information unless you agree to take the mission. All I can tell you is it’s going down here in the city.”

“I’ll do it,” Root replied instantly.

“Root!” Shaw snapped.

“No, Sameen. If whatever is going on is so dangerous that Control is coming to us, it needs to be stopped. If it’s happening in our city, that means you’re in danger and I’m gonna stop that danger. Joss, Zoe, you with me?”

The pair exchanged looks before Shaw preempted them. “You guys sure as hell better not-”

“Oh calm down,” Carter interrupted in turn, exasperated. “Nobody here is gonna let Root go off on a mission with Control by herself.”

“What’s the timeline we’re working with here?”

“You remember the Freiheit Unbegrenzt?”

“Yeah. A group of cyberterrorists that were ethically and philosophically opposed to any organization that opposed the absolute freedom of information. I took them down six years ago.”

“Nils Bomer escaped federal custody two days ago and already back on the warpath. We have eight hours he releases a dossier that will make Snowden and Wikileaks look like a sticky note on the front of the fridge.”

“And what about this dossier is dangerous to us?”

“Because you’re in it. After the whole Samaritan debacle, a certain member of the Intelligence Community decided you were worth keeping an eye on. While none of you were deemed security risks, there was an effort to reconstruct your personal histories, Root’s in particular.”

“Oh,” Root said quietly after a moment.

“Indeed. You’ve helped keep this country safe over the last couple years. We’ve had our differences in the past, but you’re both patriots. You don’t deserve to have that good worked rewarded by having every scumbag you’ve screwed over coming after you. Especially with Ms. Shaw as she is.”

Root set her plate down on the table and disappeared down the hall to their bedroom. She reappeared a moment later tucking her pistols into the waistband of her pants. “Well? What are we waiting for? Let’s go get these assholes.”


	9. Month the Ninth - Necessary Preparation

“So what’s this…”

“Freiheit Unbegrenzt,” Shaw answering Morgan’s question. They were in Zoe’s town car on the way to the Library, Root and Carter already having departed to meet up with Reese and Control’s strike team.

“You already got the most important bits. Means Freedom Unlimited in German. Bomer got a hard-on for government secrets after the Iraq War and everyone figured out Saddam didn’t actually have WMDs. Didn’t really start doing anything the government cared about until Snowden blew the lid on the NSA’s Big Brother act. Bomer was my second-to-last takedown before the ISA burned me.”

The driver dropped them off a couple blocks away from the Library, Shaw leading them through a circuitous route before arriving at their destination. Reen didn’t say anything about the spycraft, looking unimpressed when they arrived at their destination.

“This… is where you work,” Reen asked without asking.

“Where we work, yes,” Shaw replied shortly as she waddled her way up the stairs, elbows held by Reen and Zoe.

Finch was already at his workstation despite the fact that it was almost ten at night. “Mrs. Hussain, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. I’m Harold-”

“Finch, I know. I was picturing something little more technological.”

“It’s something of a holdover from before I faked my death. I always thought it was wrong how the public libraries were the first things to go when the city had to tighten its belt so I bought about a dozen. After I faked my death, it seemed a convenient location from which to operate from.”

“Most of the hard computing is done somewhere else. This is just where we receive and process the information,” Shaw said to her mother’s unasked question.

“Done by this mysterious boss your girlfriend works for?” Shaw nodded. “So what’s happening now?”

“Root, John, and Joss are with Control’s assault team. Root’s boss found where Bomer and his lackeys are holed up, a self-storage warehouse in Red Hook. She’s gonna make sure that Bomer doesn’t get the document out through some crazy computer shit.”

_“Alpha team ready,”_ John said over the comms.

_“Bravo ready. Charlie ready. Assault team ready.”_

_“Assault teams go,”_ Control’s voice said after a moment.

The nine video feeds, six ISA operators, Root, Reese, and Carter began moving. Root had identified a pair of hardlines that the Machine shooters and Grice’s team moved to cut, the third team loitering by the van to switch on the wireless jammer simultaneously.

“So this is what you do,” Reen said, standing by the arm of Shaw’s recliner as their side entered the building.

"It’s not usually so… Seal Team Six, but yeah."

"Is it always this tense?"

“You'd have to ask Finch. Usually, I’m out in the field with Root.”

“But you won’t be anymore, right?”

“First, if you mean I’m gonna stay at home and take care of the kids while she goes to work, then hell no. Second, Root already beat you to the punch. I said we’d talk about working together after the girls are born.”

The three of them watched for the next five minutes as the Team Machine squad and the ISA tore through the AK and M-4 wielding men and women.

_“Alright, I’m at Bomer’s station. Shit.”_

Reen got a concerned look but Shaw preempted whatever she was about to say.  “Let her be. She’s working.” A window popped up on one of the monitors, a digital timer showing _4:49_.

_“Got into his system,”_ Root reported a moment later. _“So I have okay news, bad news, and worse news. He somehow still has a network signal and looks like we got just under five minutes until the upload happens. Bomer knew what he was doing. He has the upload automated without both thumbprints, a retina scan, voice-print and typed password. Unfortunately, Bomer’s dead. We can take care of the thumb and retina prints here and She can figure out his password but I need you to assemble a voice model.”_

“In four-and-a-half minutes?” Finch sighed and switched to a different keyboard. “I’m on it.”

“I don’t know how you do this,” Reen said, turning away from where Finch was working. “This is nerve-wracking. Knowing Root’s in danger and not being able to do anything about it.”

“I didn’t think you cared that much about her.”

“I may not necessarily think she’s done the best job taking care of you, but anyone can see she’s head over heels, madly in love with you. And more importantly, you care for her, more than anyone else I’ve ever seen. End of the day, that’s all that matters.”

“I-” Shaw began but cut herself off when her mother gave her a flat, knowing look. “Fine. I do care about her, but I don’t worry because I know she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself.”

“It’s good you trust her so much. Trust is integral to a marriage.”

“What is it with people insisting we’re married? Does anyone see a ring?” Shaw demanded, scowling at the ‘oh really,’ look she received from Zoe. “We’re not,” Shaw insisted.

“Please. You’re as married as you can get. When was the last time you even kissed someone else?” Zoe asked.

“I never claimed to be single. Just not married.”

_“Not for lack of trying,”_ Root interjected, seemingly randomly.

“Root, are you listening?” Shaw asked, halfway between incredulous and annoyed.

“Yeah just me though. She put us on a private line.”

Shaw flailed to her feet and closed the connection from Finch’s workstation.

“That was rude,” Zoe said.

_“Very,”_ Root agreed, the Machine apparently reopening the line.

“I’m not sure that’s going to do any good,” Finch said, putting a hand on her wrist when she went to kill the line again.

“You can’t keep running away from this conversation,” Reen said disapprovingly.

“One, it’s not a conversation. It’s a question that’s been asked and answered. Two, I’m not running from anything, I’m just tired of everyone refusing to accept my answer.”

_“Maybe if you changed your answer, people would stop bugging you about it.”_

“You should be concentrating on hacking, idiot, not on trying to get me to agree to marry you.”

_“I would’ve thought by now you had a better appreciation for my skill at multitasking, Sweetie. Besides, this isn’t hard as much as just time-consuming.”_

Shaw ignored the knowing side-eye Reen gave her, glad that she otherwise remained silent, watching with her daughter as Finch worked. Gunfire continued to sound in the background as Root muttered to herself as she hacked.

_“Did Control’s intel say anything about how many guys the Freiheit Unbegrenzt has?”_ Carter asked.

“There are several thousand publicly subscribed to the group's mailing lists and newsletters domestically, despite their international headquartering.”

_“Finch. How many here shooting at us?”_ Carter rephrased, a tinge of irritation entering her tone.

“Oh, three dozen or so.”

_“Where the hell did all these guys come from?”_ Carter asked disbelievingly.

“Mr. Bomer is of the belief that the government's duplicity will eventually reach a point where citizens of the world will be forced into violent uprisings. A significant portion of the documents he’s leaked has consisted of Tier One operator training manuals and vociferous urgings for his followers to study them and to learn militia-style tactics.”

_“Of course he did,”_ Carter groused. _“These guys sure did what he told them.”_

_“Got that voice print ready yet?”_ Root asked when the timer read _0:30_.

Finch didn’t reply immediately, tapping the keys a few more times and dragging the mouse. “Yes, you should be getting it any second now.”

Root gave an affirmative a moment later and Finch relaxed slightly.

_“Grice, where are you? We could use a little help,”_ Reese growled over the comms.

And they certainly could, according to their bodycams, facing off against at least a dozen enemies.

Shaw was a little surprised at how well her mother was taking things. One the one hand, Shaw’s childhood memories of her were lovingly warm and implacable in equal measures. She had known Sameen was far from the kind of normal most parents would expect, so she hadn’t been surprised when she’d enlisted after she got kicked out of her residency. And then when she said she’d left the Marines but she was still serving, she had a good idea what she was doing. That being said, knowing about a thing and seeing it with one’s own two eyes was something else entirely, especially with Reese and the ISA’s lethal skill on full display.

The resolution was never in doubt, not with Root, Reese, and Grice on the job, but Shaw's heart pounded as furiously as it had ever had, not able to do anything as bullets whizzed perilously close to Root, the monitors to either side of her sparking and dying as they were riddled with lead. Bomer’s servers and workstation were set up in a unit near the back of the building, at the junction of a T-intersection. Reese and Carter were posted at each corner of the trunk, the rolling door to the unit closed, but the bullets fired by the Freiheit Unbegrenzt shooters simply pierced the thin aluminum. 

The other two members of her team were doing a decent job of keeping their opponents suppressed, but they didn't have infinite ammo.

After a subjective geologic age, Root let out a little whoop. _“Got it. Bomer isn't gonna be revealing anybody’s secrets anytime soon.”_

Root’s exclamation was met with relief from Shaw, sinking back into her overstuffed recliner.

A furious barrage of bullets came from the direction of the enemy shooters an instant later, all of them collapsing bonelessly as Grice and his cohorts surprised their assailants.

_“That seems to be the last of them,”_ Grice said as he approached Reese.

_“Took your sweet time coming to the rescue,”_ Carter groused, inspecting a rip in the in the sleeve of her jacket and the graze.

_“This place is a warren,”_ Brooks defended. _“Whoever designed this place is an asshole. What’s wrong with a nice simple grid? All these T-intersections just make it hard to find what you’re looking for.”_

_“We should get out of here,”_ Root said, walking up to the group. _“Firefighters will be here soon.”_

The servers in the storage unit, the ones that were still working, were smoking.

Carter rolled her eyes. _“Really? You couldn’t have just wiped the drives?”_

_“No,”_ she replied. _“Can’t risk anyone recovering any of the data.”_

_“I wish you had consulted me before destroying the servers, Root,”_ Control’s displeased voice said. _“The information on those servers could have let us determine whether he was in contact with any other persons of interest.”_

_“Well, everything’s gonna be slag in a few minutes, so you’ll just have to trust that She’ll let you know if there’s anything relevant left.”_

There was a distinct click and Grice started nodding. _“Yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am, we’re all done here. Alright, will do.”_

“Control not happy?” Shaw asked, smirking.

_“Regretting not having someone stand over her shoulder, though not surprised.”_

_“Good. Now get back here. I don't want you around Control’s people any longer than you have to be. No offense Grice.”_

_“None taken. I wouldn’t want my girlfriend out here with us if I were you.”_

“A friend of yours?” Reen asked.

“I trained him up when he got recruited to the ISA. We’re amicable.”

“He wasn’t the one who killed you by any chance, was he?”

“The man who killed me is dead. He died a hero, saving lives.”

Reen sniffed. “Must have been some hero, killing an unsuspecting woman.”

“ _Maman_! Stop. You have to get over my betrayal. Hersh did the same thing I would’ve done in his place. He thought I was a threat to national security, so he did what he thought was right and eliminated the threat. He did the right thing.”

“They tried to murder my only daughter. There’s no forgiveness for that. Even after thirty-six years, I still don’t understand you most of the time.”

“I’m not that complicated, _Maman_. I would’ve preferred if they hadn’t done it but I don't hold grudges against people just doing their jobs. And honestly, I’m tired of having this conversation. I get you’re never gonna get over what the ISA did. You’ve made your view clear, so you can ease up.”

“I won’t apologize for-”

“I’m not asking you to apologize or forgive, I’m asking you to just drop it,” Sameen interrupted, exasperated. “You’re just beating a dead horse at this point.”

“Fine, I won’t mention it again,” Reen said after a second.

“Root, you done there yet?”

_“Just tidying up a couple loose ends. I’ll be on my way back in a few minutes.”_

“Good. I want you out of there ASAP.”

_“You can chillax Shaw. We’ll all be getting out of here in a few,”_ Carter told her.

Shaw didn’t stop her pacing, knowing that Root wouldn’t be out of the woods until she was well away from Control’s people and the warehouse.

“Just do it quickly. Let’s not get into a situation where something happens at the last second.”

_“Don’t worry, we’ll get Root home safe and sound, like usual,” Reese assured her._

Shaw knew Reese and Carter would do their best to do that, but she was only able to breathe easy once the three Machine operators separated from the ISA.

\- Baby on Board -

Shaw entered the apartment to find an extremely aggravated Root pacing the main living area. “That’s what I’m trying to do if you would look away from your damned script for a moment! She’s trying to return the money, but the Army won’t take the money back until you guys audit her finances, which you won’t do until-”Root paused, clearly listening to whoever was on the other side.

“Yes, she’s already submitted all the forms.” Root waited for a reply. “Yes, she submitted the forms through the secure portal.” More waiting. “As completely as she was able. There is a minor discrepancy, but the woman is almost seventy years old and isn’t an accountant, doesn’t keep every single receipt she gets. The gap is less than a hundred dollars.” Shaw carefully lowered herself onto the coffee table that was between the couch and the tv and watched with amusement as Root paced. “That’s what I just said, she doesn’t remember what she spent it on. I don’t know why you assholes are insisting on these records, you know how much money the Army paid her, what does it matter if she spent it on a burger or gas?” The person on the other side of the phone said something that made Root’s face scrunch up even more. “Well fuck you and your fucking red tape,” the hacker snapped, mashing the ‘end call’ button with her thumb. “I’m hacking the IRS,” Root informed Shaw when she turned to face her.

“Going that well, is it?”

“I’ve been on the phone almost all day with these assclowns. The Army won’t take the money back until the IRS signs off and the IRS won’t sign off until they know exactly how your mom spent every single dollar she received since she got your death gratuity. Not that it’s any of their business, but it's a good opportunity to stick their nose where it doesn’t belong, I suppose. Just one of the many reasons I’ve never paid taxes.”

“You never paid taxes because it’s too much work for you.”

“I said one of many, not first,” Root corrected.

“I don’t care how you do it just don’t get my mom in any more trouble.”

Shaw hung her pea coat up in the closet by the door and headed toward her chair.

“How was your day?”

“Just got back from the clinic.”

“Shit, that was today?”

Shaw nodded. “Surprised the Machine didn’t remind you.”

“We’ve been busy. You heard about what happened in Atlanta?”

“Some kind of trouble with air traffic control at Hartsfield-Jackson, I think?”

“Senior controller got fired, so he decided to show they couldn’t get rid of him without consequences. The Atlanta team needed a little more computer expertise than they could field. I’m sorry I missed the appointment though.”

“It’s not a big deal. It was just a check-up.”

“And everything’s okay? No problems or complications?”

“Some of my vitamin levels aren’t as high as Doc Meracht would like, but fine otherwise.”

“Good.” Root continued to stare at Shaw.

“You want to see the ultrasounds?”

Root hopped over the back of the couch, grinning.

“And you’re absolutely sure everything’s okay?” Root asked as she traced the shapes in the photographs.

“I’m gonna start bringing notarized affidavits for you. Yes, everything’s fine.”

“I don't think I’ll really believe that until they get here. I missed the last three appointments because of the Machine, so I wanted to make this one to hear it for myself.”

“Well you’re gonna have to be satisfied hearing it from me.”

“I believe you, Sweetie, it’s different hearing it from the doctor, you know.”

“Well I’m a doctor and I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about.”

“When did you schedule the next appointment?”

“Same time next week.”

“I will be sure to make that one, then. I bet Doctor Reeds has been delighted I keep missing appointments."

"She's not as annoying about it as she could be. She gives me a dirty look when she doesn't see you in the waiting room but doesn't bug me about where you are. Fortunately, Thomas doesn't give a shit one way or another."

"Thomas?"

Shaw rolled her eyes. "We're both doctors and he's seen more of me in some ways than you have. So yeah, I call him by his first name."

"Do you call Dr. Reeds by her first name?"

"And the nurses and the technicians. It's a small clinic so it's not weird." 

"What do you think they'll be like?" Root asked after staring at the photographs some more.

"I can tell you exactly what they'll be like. You'll think they're the most beautiful, most wonderful things that have ever lived for the first couple of weeks or months. You'll get up for the midnight feedings and the two am feedings and the five am feedings without a thought. But after a while, maybe after they get sick a couple times, you'll be less excited, living on like four hours of sleep a night. Then they'll start walking and it will only get harder to keep up with them from there. Eventually, you'll be wondering why you ever wanted kids and begging me to put them up for adoption."

Root gave her a half-stunned, half-horrified look. “You don’t-”

“Oh my God I’m screwing with you dumbass. You’re gonna do just fine. Sure, you’re gonna screw up sometimes, we both will. The girls will be both angels and shitheads by turns. They’ll be smart as hell but will do stupid shit. Jesus, I thought you were reading books on this stuff.”

“They don’t have sections on asshole partners deliberately being mean.”

“Your lack of humor doesn’t mean I was being a dick. You should’ve seen your face; it was classic.”

Root huffed and got up, retrieving one of the laptops she kept on a shelf by the wall that split the living room from the Shaw-cave and her server room, on the opposite side of the living room from the short hall that led to the master bedroom.

“Root, what are you doing? Get back here.”

“I have some work to do. The LA team’s servers were breached by a number so I need to help them shore up their defenses.

“Root, I’m sorry. Come back over here.”

“Working,” Root said back.

“Root!” Shaw called again, but when she looked over, she saw the cord to an earbud dangling from her good ear.

“Don’t be like that Root. I said I’m sorry.”

Root pulled her earbud out and gave Shaw a flat look. “Fine, I forgive you but I really do have to do some work. Give me half an hour and we can cuddle.”

“That’s not what I was asking.”

“Well, we can do it because I want to, even if you don’t want to admit you do.”

Shaw growled. That had not been her objective but she didn’t want to annoy Root. She didn’t necessarily want to cuddle, but she could stand a foot-rub while she watched television.

“Where’s _Maman_?”

“Don’t know. She left a couple hours ago, said not to hold dinner for her.”

“What is dinner? Got anything planned?”

“Reen gave me a new recipe to try. Said it was your favorite meal as a kid.”

“You’re making _khorash e alu_? I haven’t had that since I was seventeen.”

“You never made it yourself?”

Shaw shook her head. “It was something _Maman_ made for me. Didn’t want to dilute those memories, I guess.” Root frowned. “But I’m fine with you making it.”

“Cool. She was very specific with her recipe so I hope it’s not too bad compared to how she made it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I’d prefer a little more than fine, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’m gonna take a bath. Feel free to join me whenever you finish up.”

Her typing paused momentarily before it intensified, fingers pounding the keys furiously for a couple seconds. “Okay, I’m done,” Root declared, closing the lid to her ultrabook sharply.

“Nuh-uh, you’re busy. The L.A. team needs your help.”

“Nope, the firewall is fixed; the team’s secure. Gimme a minute to run the bath and light the candles. I’ll come get you when everything’s ready.”

Shaw still kinda wanted to be mad at Root, but she had almost literally jumped at the chance to draw her a bath. Shaw had found the further her pregnancy the less she found Root’s devoted doting overbearing.

Truth be told, less than a month out from her predicted delivery date, most things were more difficult for her than she cared to admit. Root’s eagerness to wait on her hand-and-foot mitigated her anger at her general inability, something she was all too grateful for.

Only a couple minutes passed before her impatience overcame her.

The tub was only about half full. Root turned, likely to admonish her for getting up without her assistance or somesuch but Shaw didn’t give her the chance to utter a word. Shaw plowed into Root, pushing her back along the side of the tub and pinning her against the wall.

“Thank you,” Sameen whispered when she broke the liplock.

“You’re welcome,” Root replied, mouth curved into her default smirk. "But just for clarity, specifically what for?" 

"Everything. Being with me. Loving me. Tolerating me. Taking care of me."

"What is it you once said? I'm the only possible person you could ever be with? Same here, Sweetie."

"Still. You do so much for me and I don't really let you know how much I appreciate it.”

“I disagree, but I won’t argue. However, you can show me some of that appreciation right now.”

“That is the best idea you’ve had all day,” Shaw agreed with a grin.

\- Baby on Board -

Root and Shaw had just finished cleaning the remains of Root’s stew when a firm knock sounded from the front door.

Shaw shot her partner a questioning look.

“She says to answer it.”

Shaw dried her hands and did so, surprise flicking over her features when she sees Carter, Fusco, Reese and her mother in the hallway. Carter and Fusco each carried a single box in both hands, Reese a couple large, square thin boxes tucked under his arms. Reen was unburdened. Carter just pushed into the apartment without waiting for permission, balancing a toolbox on top. Reese brings up the back with a box under one arm and a toolbox in the other. 

“Hi there Carter, thanks for coming over. Please, come right in,” Shaw said dryly, stepping aside and holding the door open for them. “What are you guys doing here? And with my mom?” She asked when the three of them had set down their boxes.

“Your mother has decided its time to get your place fixed up,” Carter replied, looking around.

“And how is our place broken?”

“Because it’s a deathtrap. How many concealed weapons you got stashed around here?” Reen asked as she pulled a plastic lock out of the box Carter opened.

“About time to start babyproofing the apartment,” Root said, leaning in the doorway to the kitchenette.

Carter nodded in agreement. “Kids get into everything; you guys got enemies, so you can't just throw everything in a gun locker, but we can take the time to figure out how to do it so the girls don't find something they shouldn't.”

Root shrugged when Shaw shot her a questioning glance. “Got to get it done eventually, and she has a point. You got anything better to do with the rest of your evening?”

“I guess not.”

Along with the plastic cabinet locks, Carter had brought straps for both refrigerators, the dishwasher, washing machine, and dryer.  One of the small boxes in the box Fusco had brought in was full of trigger locks while a third contained various miscellaneous things like doorstops, outlet covers, stove guards, faucet and corner covers and mounts to keep their TVs and the bookcases where Root stored her extraneous computer equipment from toppling.

The last set of boxes were extendable door gates, for the kitchen, the armory, and their bedroom.

“I don't know how many guns you guys have but if this isn't enough, I'm gonna need some proof y’all aren't starting your own militia,” Fusco said, dumping the trigger locks on the dinner table.

“But that would spoil the surprise when we storm the capitol,” Shaw said, coming out of the bedroom, dropping a pair of rifles on the table in front of him.

Reese snorted from where he and Carter were moving the tv. “Careful you two, there are cops in the room. Be a shame if you had to wear an ankle monitor in the maternity ward.”

“Like she’d rat us out like that,” Root said, taking a couple trigger locks to set the combination. “It’d mean she’d have to raise whichever one she picked to godmother.”

“Just… If you do decide to overthrow the government, let me know so I can make sure to be on vacation.”

“Aren’t you worried about plausible deniability?”

Joss scoffed. “Please. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from you two miscreants it’s how not to get caught up in your aftermath. You get tossed into the big house, I’ll take care of your kid, sure, but as a random good Samaritan.”

“You’re all heart, Joss,” Root said with a smirk.

“Just because you two decide to throw your lives away, doesn’t mean I have to too.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Reen said. “I would be extremely disappointed if you chose to make yourself unavailable as well in that situation.”

Shaw re-entered the room with another four rifles and six pistols hanging off her fingers by the trigger guards.

“Okay, seriously, how many guns do you guys have?” Fiasco asked, starting to look worried.

“As many as we need,” Shaw replied succinctly. “We got enemies and we gotta be extra careful now since that shit with Control.”

“I thought you said you took care of that?” Fusco asked.

“We did. But this won’t be the last time this happens. If for no other reason that people still remember Root even if the Machine’s made everything with an electron forget her.”

“Have you ever been attacked here in your home?”

“Twice, but only once because of me. We’re gonna have one of the spare rooms converted into a panic room,” Root said when Reen got a concerned look.

Reen gave Root a thoughtful look before an approving nod. “That’s probably the best idea you’ve had since we met.”

The three peace officers gave the tallest of the three brunettes half-questioning, half-amused looks, though it was a bit more than half with Fusco.

“Is she always like this?” Fusco asked.

“If you mean do I try to make sure Root and my daughter are doing everything to make sure that my grandchildren arrive safe and stay safe, yes I do.”

“ _Maman_ was pretty sure she was never going to have grandkids at all so she’s very determined to make sure everything goes perfectly.”

“You cannot blame a woman for trying to make sure her grandchildren arrive safe and sound. Especially with what Sameen and Root do for a living.”

“If you mean how we get shot at professionally, neither one of us has caught a bullet in ages. John gets shot at way more often than either of us do for some reason. We’re lucky like that I guess.”

“Any amount of shooting is more than I’d like, but that’s some comfort I suppose.”

“We’re safer than anybody else that gets shot at for a living in the city. Root literally has Big Sister in her ear. The only time she gets shot is when she wants to.”

“Why would you ever want to get shot?” Reen asked, bewildered.

“Want isn’t really the operative word. I do what She tells me to, regardless of how pleasant it is.”

“She… The Machine has told you to get shot,” Reen asked, halfway between disbelief and anger.

“To keep someone else from getting shot worse,” Root replied baldly. “She has never put my life in danger, or any of the team’s, without good reasoning.”

“I hope you would tell me if the Machine had ever told you to get shot,” Reen told Sameen shortly.

“Root’s the only one on the team crazy enough to  obey those orders.”

“That’s accurate,” Root said when Reen gave her a questioning look. “But She has promised to only issue orders that guarantee bodily harm in the most extreme circumstances.”

Reen sniffed. “At this point, I’m not surprised.”

“ _Maman_ , we discussed this, remember?”

“No, we discussed Root doing her job, not deliberately getting herself shot. I thought you said Root was not taking unnecessary risks?”

Shaw shot a careful look to the Carter, who had stopped to watch with avid interest before she replied. “If she says it’s necessary then it is. I may not like it if Root gets shot, but if the Machine says something needs to be done, then it does.” Reen gave Sameen a look that said that was not an acceptable response. “That’s the way it is, end of discussion.”

“Sameen-”

“I said end of discussion, _Maman_. I mean it. I’m done talking about this.”

Reen gave her a sour look but didn’t try to push the issue any further.

“So. Now that’s settled, let’s figure out how to make this place the last place bad guys ever want to hit.”

\- Baby on Board -

“Oh. My. God. Shaw, you’re pregnant! What the hell?”

A flabbergasted Genrika Zhirova stood in the entryway to the apartment, having dropped her bags at her feet. "You cheated on Root? How could you?"

"Gen,” Root said, setting a hand on her shoulder from behind, “remember when I said I had a surprise? Well, this is it."

Gen frowned. "You sure you're not just covering for her? I can handle it if she did.”

“I did not cheat on Root, Gen. Jesus, why would you think that?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Root told me about Barcelona.”

Shaw gave Root a ‘really?’ look. “That was like, three years ago and a one-night-stand. Besides, we weren’t even together at the time.”

“The way Root tells it, you were broken up because of Barcelona.”

“Only in her head,” Shaw muttered. “I hope you’re okay with the couch because my mom has the guest room.”

“The couch is fine. At this point, anywhere Amanda isn’t is great.”

“Amanda?” Shaw asked with an interested smirk.

“Her roommate. The third one this year,” Root said.

“I have problems with privileged, uppity bitches. Sue me.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you do. As sure I am that you have absolutely nothing to do with your problems with your roomies.”

“It’s not my fault if I happen to learn things people would rather stay secret while practicing my tradecraft.”

Shaw smirked. “I don’t think I’d actually believe you two weren’t related if I didn’t know it for a fact."

Gen shrugged. "Don't do bad things if you don't want to get busted. "

"I bet that's made you a lot of friends," Shaw said wrapping Gen in a one-armed hug when the girl flopped on the couch next to her.

"I don't want any of them for friends. They're all children."

"You're a child," Root pointed out.

"Not like they are. I already know what I'm gonna do when I grow up. I've had people try to kill me. I know how to shoot a gun, pick locks. My moms used to be killers."

"Okay, first of all, we're not your moms,” Shaw said, leaning away. “Second, the reason why you don't like the other girls wouldn't have anything to do with telling them all this?"

Gen shook her head with a mulish expression. "You are my moms. You're way more parent-y than anyone else on the team."

"And to think there was a time I thought you might get less weird the older you got."

Shaw turned around to glare at Root a moment later after an apple bounced off the back of her head. Root matched Sameen’s glare with one of her own, fists on hips. "How dare you say such a thing to our sweet, precious child?"

Shaw huffed, turning around to return her attention to the television, ignoring the smirks the children exchanged.

“So you gotta tell me everything,” Gen demanded, folding one leg under her to stare at the side of Shaw’s head. “Starting with why you didn’t tell me.”

“It never came up.” Gen gave her a look that screamed ‘bullshit.’ “It didn’t!”

“And the only reason I can think of that is that you didn’t want to tell me for some reason. I’m fine with you two having kids of your own. I’m not gonna get jealous.”

“I dunno, alright. It just never seemed like the right time. Now could you lay off, kid?”

“I don’t think that’s the real reason but it’s good enough for now.” Gen pulled her leg down from under her butt and focused on the television, taking in what was on it for the first time. “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?” Gen asked disbelievingly.

“It’s funny,” Shaw defended. “Heteros can get so defensive. Besides, I’m queer, so.”

Gen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and you’re an upstanding member of the queer community. You okay?" Gen asked when she noticed the tightness around Shaw's eyes.

"Yeah. Just Braxton Hicks contractions. Not really painful, but they are uncomfortable."

Gen fell silent, reaching out to Shaw's stomach after a moment. "Can I..."

Shaw took Gen's hand without a word and placed it high on her belly. Gen's eyes grew wide when she felt the twitching and gentle rolling motion under her hand.

_"They're moving!"_  the blonde exclaimed in a whisper.

"Yeah, that's what babies do," Shaw agreed.

"Can I get you anything? You got any meds?" Gen asked when Shaw's contractions didn't appear to subside.

"No, it's fine. They'll stop in a minute. Now go away, I'm trying to watch TV here."

Gen got up and moved to the kitchen. “So if she didn’t cheat on you, what happened?”

Root looked over her shoulder from where she was cooking burgers. “It was the Machine’s idea at first. She's going to need a new Analog Interface sooner or later. Our kids are pretty much perfect candidates for the Machine." Root waved Gen over and set her to chopping onions. 

Gen made a face. "Are you saying this was the Machine’s idea? And Shaw just went along with it?"

"Not at first, of course. But she came around."

"That's still kinda fucked up."

"Everything was completely above board, I assure you. Do you really think Shaw would ever do anything she didn't really want to do?"

"Still kinda icky. Know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"We're having twin girls."

"So... How did Shaw even get pregnant in the first place?”

“We found a doctor who helped us out.”

“You picked out names yet?”

“Still working on that.”

“That seems like something that you should’ve done by now.”

Root rolled her head. “Everyone has a problem with how we’re doing things. We have everything in hand, I swear.”

“Hey, I’m not berating, just making a statement.”

“Good. Now, how do you want your burger?”

Reen returned about ten minutes later, pausing by Gen’s bags before entering the penthouse proper. “Hey,” she said to announce her presence as she entered the kitchenette.

Gen turned around, glancing between Reen and Root. “Hi,” she replied. “I’m Gen,” she introduced herself when Root didn’t say anything. “Who’re you?”

“Reen, Sameen’s mother. Who’re you?”

“This is Gen. We helped her get out of some trouble with some drug dealers a couple years ago.”

“And by we, she means me,” Shaw interrupted from the couch.

“She didn’t have any family,” Root continued as if Shaw hadn’t spoken, “so we’ve been looking after her.”

“We is Finch,” Shaw added again.

“Sameen and I have been teaching her stuff so can join the team when she graduates college in a few years.”

Gen grinned, twirling the knife she’d been using to slice the tomatoes before making it disappear. She held her hands up, wiggling her fingers before making it reappear in her other hand.

“Impressive,” Reen replied without sounding so.

"She's not a fan of violence," Root explained at Gen's questioning look.

"And she's related to Shaw?"

"More like Sameen's related to me," Reen said dryly.

"You know your comments should be smart before adding the ass," Shaw added from the couch.

"So your not like a pacifist or something, after you?" Gen asked.

“No, I’m perfectly aware that there are some people who need to be stopped by any means necessary. I simply don’t like that it’s my daughters doing the stopping.”

“Daughters?” Gen asked, chopping slowing as her interest was piqued. “As Shaw and Root are…”

“That is how marriage works,” Reen said. “The spouse of your child becomes your child as well.”

“WE’RE! NOT! MARRIED!” Shaw exclaimed, irritation loud in her tone.

“Is this a thing?” Gen asked.

“Sort of,” Root said. “You know her. She’s just being arbitrarily contrary. She wants to get married but she’s too stubborn to admit it.”

“Are you sure driving up her blood pressure is smart, this late in her pregnancy?” Gen asked when Shaw made a strangled shriek.

“She’ll be fine. She has really low blood pressure to start with so it’s okay if it goes up a few points.”

Root pulled down a stack of plates and started assembling the burgers. Shaw’s was predictably quite a bit bigger than the rest of theirs, having a bit of what looked like everything from the fridge on it, including Sriracha sauce, Ranch, and pickles.

"Babe? You want Swiss or American?"

There was a pronounced pause, Shaw appearing in the threshold. "What kind of person do you take me for? Swiss, of course.” Shaw marched forward and all but snatched the plate out of her hand.

The meal passed amicably, Reen asking about Gen's life, Shaw occasionally inquiring for clarification.

"Do you know what you want to do when you graduate?" Reen asked.

"I'm gonna join the CIA for a while to get some experience and do my patriotic service, moonlight with the team until I join them in a couple years."

Reen gave an approving nod. "It is good to give back to your country, especially if you have the talent. What's your native tongue?"

"Russian, but the school is big on languages so I'm learning Spanish, French, German and Italian."

"And you are doing well in your other subjects?"

"Math is bullshit but Robot's been helping me with it. What I really like is Chemistry and Comp Sci. They bump anyone who can hack the school's systems a letter grade. Though, I don’t think the systems you can access are the real ones.”

“How long are you going to be with us?” Shaw asked suddenly.

"Two weeks, maybe a little more."

"Maybe a little more?" Shaw asked skeptically.

"Depends on how long it takes for the dorms to get fixed." The soft clinking of Roots and Reen's silverware stopped, even Sameen giving the girl a curious look. "I didn't break the plumbing, alright. The place is old and some pipes burst. I had absolutely nothing to do with it."

Roots gaze unfocused in the telltale sign she was listening to the Machine.

“She says the workmen are having trouble finding where the leak is but did discover a pretty severe termite and fungus infection. So two weeks is probably on the conservative side."

"So you think I might get to see your babies be born?"

"Probably. I'm about three weeks to my due date, and twins rarely make it to full term."

"I've always wanted to see babies being born."

"You actually don't. You think you do, but you don't. It's gross and sometimes bloody and hurts like a motherf-udgecake."

"I'm sixteen, Shaw, not six. I've heard the word motherfucker before."

"Not from us," Shaw said before her mother could ask. "Or at least not me. “

“Girl, I am not going to blame you for a sixteen-year-old child’s language. I’m plenty aware of all the places she could’ve heard that word from. Although, I do wish I didn't almost hear it from your mouth. You know how I feel about that kind of thing.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “'Foul language is a weak mind trying to express itself strongly,'” she said with an air of long repetition.

“Correct, and I know you don’t have a weak mind, Sameen, so find another way to express yourself.”

“This is bizarre,” Gen said. “I mean, you said you’re Shaw’s mom, but you’re her _mom_. It's so weird.”

“Thank you for thinking that my daughter having a mother is weird, dear,” Reen replied dryly.

“I didn’t mean it like that, ma’am. I just meant it’s weird to see Shaw being mothered.”

“You’re almost as bad as a guy when it comes to putting your foot in your mouth,” Shaw said, amusement laced through her voice. "However, it would seem that you're gonna get your wish because I'm pretty sure these aren't Braxton Hicks contractions I'm feeling anymore."

Root leaped to her feet, her half-eaten burger going flying. "You're going into labor?" she demanded. "You sure? How?"

"Well, I either lost all control of my bodily functions, or my water just broke. So, you decide."


End file.
